Harry Potter and the Hawkbrothers
by PersistentMuse
Summary: When Voldemort comes across a mention of some mysterious mages in an old book, he sends his loyal minions out to offer an alliance. What he ends up triggering is NOT what he bargained for...(HP-Mercedes Lackey XOver) RonHermione, HarryOC?
1. Endings and Beginnings

Author's Notes:

::Telepathic speech::

_Thought_

Tayledras when it's being spoken among English speakers (will come up in later chapters)

In order for this to work, I'm setting the events of the Owlknight Trilogy around 900 A.D. Valdemar was torn apart by civil war in the 1300's, and by that time, the Tayledras and the Kaled'a'in have successfully merged cultures, with elements of both remaining. They go, collectively, by Tayledras now. The Clans have dwindled to the point that there is only one Vale (though a very large one, with upward of 9,000 living beings).

It starts in the end of Harry's sixth year.

Please R&R, constructive criticisms appreciated.

Thank you to my lovely Betas, Emily and Karen!

* * *

Harry Potter wasn't a normal boy. For one thing, he was really sorry it was the last day of school. For another, he had a lightening-bolt shaped scar on his forehead.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting under an oak tree by the Hogwarts lake in the early summer sunshine. The trio hadn't changed much physically over the last year. Harry still had his father's messy black hair and his mother's brilliant green eyes. He was still a bit undersized for his age, being only five-foot- three and skinny. The lightening-bolt scar was still in the same place on his forehead. Ron was, by contrast, five-foot-eleven and had muscled out a little from all the Quidditch practices in the past year. He wasn't buff by any stretch of the imagination, but he was no longer quite as stork-like. Hermione was now five-foot-two, and she had modest feminine curves. Her brown hair was as bushy as ever.

They had just gotten out of their last exam for the year (Potions) and all three were glad for the warm weather after the clammy chill of the dungeon classroom. They were all also desperately hoping that they had passed, though in Hermione's case it was pretty much a foregone conclusion that she had. Harry lay back with an inner sigh and looked up into the branches of the tree. Something in his expression must have given away his mood, because Ron looked at Harry a bit warily.

"Something wrong, mate?" Ron asked tentatively.

"Oh, nothing much," said Harry a little waspishly, "Just the prospect of going home to the Dursleys tomorrow." He didn't add that he was also fated to a duel to the death with one of the most evil and powerful wizards ever to roam the planet, thank you very much, but he could have.

"It's only for a week, Harry," Hermione said, in a consoling sort of way, "And Ron and I'll write you every day. And after that you'll be in Grimmauld Place with us." Ron nodded energetically, trying to keep Harry from erupting in one of the angry shouting fits that he'd been prone to over the last two years.

Harry grunted. "I guess…"

————————————————Meanwhile—————————————————

In one of the few untouched stretches of forest left in Europe, Dawncloud was on patrol. Dawncloud was a Tayledras, or Hawkbrother, Scout. She reflected that that didn't mean as much as it used to. Dawncloud had wanted to be a Scout since she was tiny, though she supposed that came more from listening to too many _kyree_ tales, rather than from looking at how things were now.

_Back in the old days_, she thought,_ being a Scout meant more. Those days, you had fights, even adventures. Adept Darkwind was a Scout for a while, and look at all the amazing adventures HE had._

In the times of Darkwind, the Scouts had played a vital role in Tayledras society. In those days, and for eons dating back to the days of the first Mage Wars, the Scouts had been charged with keeping dangerous creatures away from the Vales, and alerting their people to the larger threats. Now, well, the gryphons were the only dangerous magical animals around, and the gryphons were their friends and allies. Non-magical predators stayed away from the Vale instinctually, and very few humans came anywhere close. Most of those were simply avid campers or birdwatchers, and could be kept away from k'Sheyna territory with a few well-placed illusions of ravines or impassible briar hedges. The few traders that still had business with the Tayledras had special rendezvous spots outside the Vale, and knew they weren't welcome further elsewhere, so it could be assumed that anyone found in places other than those spots was unwanted and therefore to be discouraged.

Dawncloud pondered all this as she made her rounds that early summer day. At twenty years of age, she was experienced enough at the Tayledras methods of walking through the treetops to be able to let her mind wander. Frankly, she often wished she were still learning. As it was, she no longer felt challenged by anything, and she was growing steadily more restless.

_Four or five years ago, everything was wonderful, _she mused, _I was studying to become a Master, and learning things like strategy and tactics. Walking the tree roads was still a novel challenge, and Hwirr was delighting me everyday with his progress in flight. Hwirr is still a delight, that won't ever change, _she thought fondly of her Bondbird, _but there's nothing _new_ happening to me. I need some excitement!_

**BANG!**

The sound, like a small explosion, shocked Dawncloud. She jumped, twisting her head around to look for the source of the noise. Her violet eyes lit on a man wearing black robes and standing by a distant rock formation. She narrowed her eyes, using her special gift to sharpen her vision to that of a raptor in order to see him better. He was a balding man, with small, squinting eyes. He had the look of a fat man who has recently lost a lot of weight, and from his nervous movements, Dawncloud guessed it had been stress, rather than illness, that had caused it. The man (_he's got to be a mage_, thought Dawncloud, _to appear from nowhere like that._) was twitching nervously, looking ill at ease in a wilderness setting. He glanced down at a piece of paper held in a hand that was…

_Is that SILVER?_ Dawncloud scrutinized it more closely. As far as she could tell without examining it, it _was_. What was more, it glowed in her Sight with magical energy, as did the piece of wood he carried in his other (flesh) hand. That was the other part of Dawncloud's odd gift. Any Tayledras-trained mage worth her salt could go into a semi-trance state and look at the energy flows in the world around her, but Dawncloud Saw them naturally. She had for as long as she could remember, ensuring that her training as a mage had started at the young age of seven (her parents had insisted; knowing her, they thought she was likely to get into trouble trying to learn on her own if she wasn't taken in hand and taught). _So, a mage with two magical artifacts appears out of nowhere. I suppose I'd better call this in._

::Hwirr?:: Dawncloud Mindcalled to her owl.

::?:: The bird replied with more a feeling than words, enquiring what Dawncloud wanted.

::I need you to pass a message to Kree. Tell him to tell Sunfire there's a strange mage here.::

Hwirr sent his agreement, complied, and had a reply within seconds. ::Kree says Sunfire be here soon. Ride dyheli. Kree come, too. We watch mage-man.::

It would have been more direct to just speak straight to Sunfire mind-to-mind, but Dawncloud's mindgifts were minimal. She could hold up her end on a conversation with someone with powerful telepathy, but initiating the contact, especially with the Adept a good distance away, was far outside her capabilities. So she asked the Bondbirds to be intermediaries. That had its drawbacks, since the birds, while far more intelligent (and also larger) than their normal cousins, were still of limited intellect. Complex messages were beyond them.

All through the exchange, Dawncloud had kept her eyes (and her crossbow sight) trained on the intruder. He had kept looking down at the paper in his hand, then around at his surroundings, then back at the paper. He was also muttering to himself, though he was too distant to be heard. The angle at which he held it prevented Dawncloud from reading the paper in his hand, so she didn't know what was up. Finally, the man with the small, watery eyes looked at his paper one final time and shoved it in a pocket in his robes. Then he started heading west, towards where Dawncloud stood in the trees. West, where the Vale was.

Dawncloud briefly considered creating an illusion in front of the man, as she would have done for any camper wandering into Tayledras territory. Then she discarded the idea; if he _was_ a mage, he would probably sense her casting it and ignore the mirage. If he was a _good_ mage, using magic would also give away her exact position. _So,_ she thought,_ plain old arrows it is._ She pointed her crossbow and pulled the trigger. The quarrel landed a foot in front of the man, who jumped back and yelped in surprise.

"Halt! Wenn Sie keinen Schaden bedeuten, heben Sie Ihre Hände an. Andernfalls sind Sie Schuß. ¡Alto! Si usted no significa ningún daño, levante sus manos. Si no, usted será tiro. Halte ! Si vous ne voulez dire aucun mal, soulevez vos mains. Autrement, vous serez projectile. Остановка! Если вы не намереваетесь никакой вред, то поднимите ваши руки. В противном случае, вы будете съемкой. Halt! If you mean no harm, raise your hands. Otherwise, you will be shot."

Dawncloud had memorized the same warning in seven languages for just such an occasion. She had only gone through German, Spanish, French, Russian, and English when she stopped. The stranger mage had finally put his hands up when she got to the English warning, so she didn't go into the Greek and Dutch. The man kept his wand in hand when he put his arms up, so Dawncloud kept a wary eye (and her crossbow) on him.

::'Cloud?:: Dawncloud recognized Sunfire's mindvoice with some relief.

::Right here, Sunfire.:: She sent back to him.

::What's going on? Fill me in, I'm almost there.::

::There was this great loud noise, like a branch breaking, but sharper. Then I see this man suddenly just… there. I have to assume he's a mage; you don't just appear out of nowhere without magic. Still, it's like no Gate spell I've ever seen. He's got two magical artifacts with him, as well: a silver hand and a piece of wood. He speaks English, apparently.::

::Thanks. I'll be in sight shortly.::

As promised, within a minute Dawncloud heard the soft thump, thump, thump of a dyheli galloping up. Then Sunfire came into view, riding astride a dyheli bareback. Dawncloud winced in sympathy. In the interest of alacrity, Sunfiree hadn't taken the time to saddle up. Riding a dyheli at that speed, without a saddle protecting you, would leave one's rear decidedly sore. Dyheli had been described for years as 'backbones balanced on springs': not a soft or comfortable ride.

Sunfire dismounted, without giving away any discomfort. The stranger, having noticed him, stopped swiveling his head around to look for Dawncloud and focused on Sunfire. He nodded warily and spoke.

"Can I lower my arms now?"

"If you wish. I would prefer you put your wand away, however, as a sign that you mean no ill intent." Sunfire replied, in correct if accented English.

The man stowed his wand in a pocket reluctantly. "Are you the spokesman for the Tail-dross?" he asked, mispronouncing the name.

"I am a representative of the Tayledras, yes."

"Ah. My master, the Dark Lord Voldemort, has a proposition for you."

Sunfire held up a hand. "First tell me: how does your master know of us? We are a private people, and very few know of our existence."

The foreign mage looked nervous, as if he was not sure if he should answer. Finally he said: "The Dark Lord was searching through ancient texts for the solution to a problem when he came across a mention of a mysterious and powerful people who lived in the depths of forests. He decided that such a people, if they still existed, would make useful allies. He sent off ten of us to different forested areas, to investigate the possibility."

"I see." Sunfire's tone was bland; his face showed no expression. "So what is it your master wants from the Hawkbrothers?"

"A little aid, that's all, and in return he is prepared to reward you most generously." The expression on the man's face put both Tayledras strongly in mind of a rodent.

"Please elaborate." Sunfire crossed his arms and waited.

The man looked put out, as if he had been hoping that the mere mention of a generous reward would cause the man he was speaking to to jump in and agree. "Well, your people – hawkbrothers, did you say? – were mentioned as powerful wizards, and dangerous to cross. My Lord could use such magical dueling skills on his side. The Ministry is now being meddlesome, and they have recruited quite a number of new Aurors since my Lord's last rise in power. He will, of course, handle the Potter boy and Dumbledore without your aid; you will merely assist with the Aurors, who aren't anywhere near as powerful as the previous generations were, anyway. In return, my Lord is prepared to offer you land, wealth, even Muggle slaves."

The strange mage had rambled on a bit, fidgeting and watching Sunfire's hands as much as his face. Therefore, he had missed the slight widening in Sunfire's eyes at the mention of Dumbledore. Dawncloud had noticed, but she did not know the cause; she wasn't fluent in English. She regretted, now, her choice to learn languages the slow, magicless way, rather than getting them through a dyheli transfer. She had chosen Spanish to tackle first, since at the moment no one in the Vale spoke it fluently. At the moment, she was very frustrated with her inability to follow the conversation.

"I… see." Sunfire repeated. "Well, the offer has merit, but I cannot speak for the entire clan on something that would affect us all so much. Come back to this place in three days and you will be given an answer. Come alone and offer no violence. If anyone other than you appears, or acts aggressively, they will be shot on sight. Am I understood?"

The strange mage nodded nervously and disappeared with a 'Crack!'.

Sunfire looked up into the treetops and spotted Dawncloud. In Talyledras, he called out: "Start heading back to the Vale. I want you to call the council; I'll hang back and set up a few magical alarms and traps in case our visitor decides to come back prematurely." Dawncloud opened her mouth to speak, but Sunfire held up a hand, forestalling her questions. "I'll explain to everyone once the council is called, and not before. And yes, you'll be allowed in, since you were the first once to see our visitor and you acted appropritately. Now get going."

Dawncloud shut her mouth and did as she was told, not wanting to irritate Sunfire and be banned from the council. As she was heading back through the trees, her primary feeling was: _At last! Something different happening around here!_


	2. Information Shared

Sunfire walked into the council chamber- or tried to, at any rate. It was too crowded for him to walk in comfortably, so he ended up sidling in in a rather undignified way, hopping slightly to avoid stepping on anyone's tail. Twenty-one beings were crowded into a space that held fifteen or so comfortably- fewer, if there were many gryphons (and there were six there that day). The two kyree there were under the edge of the table in an effort to make more space. As Sunfire reached his seat among the other seven humans present (narrowly avoiding several collisions), he made a mental note to be more specific next time he asked Dawncloud to call a council. Or, better yet, to just gather people himself. He supposed she had asked so many in order to avoid leaving out anyone who truly needed to be there; really, it just made for a lack of elbowroom. Besides the gryphons and kyree, there were four hertasi (he assumed one of them had brought the plates of finger foods) and the dyheli king stag. Some of the people there had been chatting quietly and nibbling on the snacks set out, but when Sunfire cleared his throat, everyone fell silent and gave him their attention.

"Yes, well, as I'm sure you're all aware by now, I asked 'Cloud to call you all here because we've had an… uninvited guest."

There were nods around the room; everyone had picked up that much either from Dawncloud or from their neighbors as they arrived. Sunfire, looking grave, had Dawncloud tell those assembled what she had seen. Then he recapped his conversation with the mage, keeping the translation as close as possible and adding his personal impressions based on the man's tone and expression.

"There are several things about this encounter that bother me, but the mention of Dumbledore especially upsets me. When I was much younger, I traveled outside the Vale quite a good deal. Part of this was wanderlust, but another part was because we, as a people, were finding it harder and harder to obtain what we needed to survive. While traveling, I met a mage named Albus Dumbledore. He was a brilliant man, and a pleasure to associate with. He taught me most of what I know about the OutClan methods of using magic, and in return I trained him in his innate mind-gifts, which have mostly faded from the outside world. When I told him my reasons for traveling, he helped me to find trustworthy traders and set up the business agreements that we still benefit from today. If this is the same Dumbledore, it is possible that he is in grave danger, along with the 'Potter' boy the silver-handed man referred to."

As Sunfire paused, a deep voice spoke up from across the room. "The porrrtion about magiclesss sslaves iss also worrrisome. So if this mage has ssaid things that we strongly object to, why then did you tell him to come back in thrrree dayss? Why did you not ssimply ssslay him where he sstood?" The speaker was Halona, who was there as the representative of the gryphons who worked with the Scouts in daytime. She was a handsome gryphon, with russet plumage. Of average gryphon size, she was of a height that Sunfire came up to her shoulder.

Sunfire shook his head, but the answer came from beside Halona. Daystar, the daytime Scout leader and often Halona's partner, sounded thoughtful as he spoke. "Obviously we aren't considering teaming up with this 'Dark Lord', but there's no harm in letting him think we are. It's possible this strange mage had some sort of tracking or spying spell placed on him."

Dawncloud snorted quietly. The mage placing such a spell would have had to be at least as skilled as Sunfire to have hidden it from her Sight, and if he'd wanted to hide magic, the foreign man's hand and stick would probably have been masked as well. Sherya, the hertasi armorer, picked up the thread of discussion. This four-foot-tall lizard-man was a great tactician, besides being a master of the logistics needed to supply all the Scouts in weaponry.

"Even if that's not the case, if the man simply did not come back, it would have been pretty obvious that he had found… something. They probably would have sent more people to locate the person, and they would have come prepared for a fight. This way, we have time to decide what we WILL do about this, and aren't showing ourselves to be openly hostile to the idea of alliance, just… cautious."

"That mostly sums up my reasoning, yes. But I have already decided on _my_ course of action. Albus Dumbledore was a good and kind friend to me. I am going to find him and offer my aid _against_ the Dark Lord. I leave as soon as is manageable. I would appreciate any help offered, of course." Sunfire smiled and steepled his fingers.

There were various, near-simultaneous reactions around the room. There was a lot of excited talk, both mental (on the part of the dyheli stag and the lupine kyree) and vocal. One of the kyree let out a yelp as an excited gryphon trod on his tail. A few people were shocked, but most had expected something of the sort. Of those who had expected it, a few were opposed to Sunfire going in person, suggesting that he send a message instead. There were several people who applauded the notion of going, considering the fact that anyone offering slaves as payment and calling himself a Dark Lord was bad news. Among the second group was Dawncloud, who waited until most of the chatter had died down before she spoke.

"Count me in."

* * *

"Pepper Imps."

The stone gargoyle sprung aside, allowing Severus Snape to step onto the ascending spiral stair behind it. Not being in a patient mood, he strode up the stairs and rapped on the door at the top.

"Come in."

Snape entered Dumbledore's office, nodding politely to the older man and taking the chair opposite his. Dumbledore looked up from the papers on his desk and gave Snape his full attention. Snape had been called away to Voldemort's side via the Dark Mark on his arm, but he always notified the Headmaster when this happened. Dumbledore knew Snape was about to report on the Dark Lord's movements.

"Tea, Severus?"

"No, thank you, Professor. He had an… odd assignment for the Death Eaters this time. He's been searching in as many ancient texts as he can get his hands on for a way around Potter's protection with the Muggles. While reading through some outdated encyclopedia, he apparently found mention of some sort of hidden mystical race of forest-dwellers. He sent all of us out to coordinates he'd selected as likely places to find these people, and told us to search for evidence of them, to spy on them if we could. If we were discovered, we were to propose an alliance in his name. Offer rewards, or make threats as the situation warranted. He sent off Avery, Nott, Rookwood, the Lestranges, Pettigrew, Malfoy, Macnair, and myself. I found some lovely plant specimens, but no sign of human life. I would not have told He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named if I _had_, of course."

"Of course."

"I stayed and wandered around for several hours- collected some Pimenta officianalisto to at least be doing something productive- and then Apparated back to the Dark Lord's side and reported no findings." Snape paused.

"Very good, Severus... was there anything else?"

"Nothing definite, but I have my suspicions. I know the Dark Lord's moods, as well as anyone can, and he did not seem disappointed. On the contrary, he seemed energized, excited about something. Pettigrew, Avery, and Rodolphus Lestrange were already back, and I have a feeling one of them actually _found_ the Tally-draws people."

Dumbledore looked surprised. "The _what_ people, Severus?"

"Tally-draws, or some such. Here," Snape pulled a scrap of paper from a pocket in his robes and passed it to Dumbledore. Dumbledore took it and looked at it over the top of his half-moon spectacles. On the paper was a set of coordinates- in northern France, if Dumbledore wasn't mistaken- and the words 'Tayledras mages'.

"Ah. It's pronounced Tay-Lay-Drahs, and I do not believe we need fear they will ally with Voldemort. Thank you for reporting so promptly, Severus. I'm sure you're eager to go put away the samples you collected, and then rest."

Since he was obviously being dismissed, Snape stood and left. He wondered, not for the first time, what Dumbledore knew that nobody else did. Dumbledore watched him go, then took out a clean sheet of parchment. _Adept Sunfire,_ he wrote, _it has been many years since we have written, and even longer since we haveseen each other. I write to you now to inform you of a possible threat to your people_…


	3. Journeys

Harry stepped off of the Hogwarts Express and onto Platform 9 ¾. It had been an uncomfortable train ride, filled with heavy silences. Harry had shared a compartment with Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, and Ginny Weasley. Ron and Hermione popped their heads in from time to time, but spent most of the trip patrolling the train or in the Prefect's compartment. Luna had had her nose buried in a book titled "The Best of Where's Waldo?" When asked, she had briefly explained that her father had sent it to her, saying it was good practice for spotting the abnormal in photographs. Ginny and Neville had occasionally offered comments or started conversations, but whenever one of them tried to draw Harry into the talk, his brusque answers had put a damper on the chatting. Eventually they both gave up.

Harry wheeled his trolley through the barrier between Platform 9 ¾ and the rest of the station and looked around. There was Uncle Vernon, standing about eight feet behind Molly Weasley. Molly hugged Harry, who offered her a weak smile before looking at his uncle. Vernon grunted and turned, walking away and apparently expecting Harry to follow. So Harry pushed his things along, keeping Vernon's broad back in sight. When they reached the car, Vernon popped open the boot and went to sit in the driver's seat, still without having spoken a word to Harry. That was pretty much what Harry had been expecting, so he simply shoved his stuff into the boot, closed it, and got into the passenger's side seat. Harry briefly wished he'd made more of an effort to keep up the conversation on the train, as it seemed that he had a whole week of silence to look forward to. This summer would at least have one point over last summer: he wouldn't have to go to Sirius's memorial.

* * *

"I know it's not a pleasant experience, 'Cloud, but _you_ know it's necessary. If you're going to come to England to help me, you're going to have to learn the language, and fast." 

Dawncloud sighed in resignation. "I know, Sunfire. I'll do it, of course."

"Good girl!" Sunfire gave Dawncloud a reassuring pat and led her towards the field the dyheli herd was currently using. When they got there, he called out.

"Nevan, could you do the language transfer for Dawncloud, please?"

::Certainly.:: Nevan, one of two dyheli who had volunteered to come along, separated from the herd and trotted over to where the two Tayledras were standing. ::English, wasn't it?::

"Yes, it was. Thank you. Dawncloud, you'd better sit down." Sunfire gave Dawncloud another pat, which didn't really reassure her. She sat down anyway.

The next thing Dawncloud knew, she was flat on her back, looking up into the faces of Sunfire and Nevan. Her head was pounding, and for a brief several moments, she saw double. Sunfire grinned and held out a flask, which Dawncloud eagerly grabbed, downing as much as she could before the taste made her gag.

"Yuck! I wish Riverwind would come up with an effective potion that _didn't_ taste so awful it was hard to keep it down. She was right, though: it feels like someone's been stirring around inside my head with a stick." Dawncloud groaned and took another swig of the flask. "At least tell me whichever hertasi brought this around also sent something to wash the taste away?"

Sunfire chuckled. "Yes, some of the mixed-fruit juices you're so fond of." He held up a small jug for her to see. "You can have it once you finish that. If you'd take my advice, you might as well go to sleep afterwards. The hertasi can pack perfectly well without your help, and tomorrow's going to be a long day."

"All right. I might as well take my last chance to sleep in my own bed before we leave. But first I'm heading to the hot springs for a nice long soak."

Dawncloud went to one of the hot springs and hung a colored marker on the path branching to them from the main one- green, meaning the pool was occupied, but the occupant would welcome company, both to soak and for… other activities.

The next morning, Dawncloud left the ekele in which she had spent the night (not her own) and headed towards the general gathering field near the main entrance to the Vale. There were eight large baskets; at one gryphon to carry each, that meant eight gryphons were going to come along. The baskets were magicked: anything within them was reduced to a fraction of its actual weight, making it possible for the gryphons to carry them easily.

Hertasi were still swarming over the baskets, with various packages and straps and things. There was a largish crowd off to one side of the furious packing, including Dawncloud's parents. Dawncloud went over and gave them a fond hug.

"'Morning, Mother, Papa. How many of these folks are actually going… and are you among them?"

Dawncloud's mother smiled fondly at her. "No, we're not. There are only five humans going on this trip; the rest is just a farewell party. There's you, auntie Riverwind, Daystar, Longshadow, and, of course, Sunfire. There's also two hertasi, two dyheli, and one kyree- well, you know how they are about firsthand historical accounts."

"I see…"

Dawncloud wandered over towards the baskets, curious. Six of the eight had the lids on, and were presumably full of supplies. The seventh was half-full, with the supplies all stacked to one side; the eighth was empty. Dawncloud assumed those would carry the kyree and dyheli. They would be below the rims of their baskets, and thus wouldn't be able to see the scenery, but it was an even exchange, in Dawncloud's opinion. She and the rest of the bipeds would get to see, but that was because they'd be balancing on top of the full baskets, gripping the handholds built around the edge of the baskets and shifting their weight around to keep them balanced in the air. They would be working almost as hard as the gryphons carrying the baskets were.

Dawncloud felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked over to see Sunfire smiling down at her.

"Have something to eat, 'Cloud. We'll be leaving shortly, and we aren't stopping until we find a secluded enough place, so lunch might not be for a while."

"All right." Dawncloud dutifully went to one of the hertasi carrying loaded trays through the crowd and grabbed several meatrolls. She ate them, despite being too excited to be really hungry. She was finally going to get to go on adventures, just like in tales!


	4. Destination Reached

He'd been home for three days, and Harry Potter was miserable. Hermione and Ron had taken their Apparition tests, and both had passed on their first try. Even if Harry had been able to convince his Aunt and Uncle to take him to the Ministry to be tested (_no chance of that, anyway_, Harry thought), Dumbledore had forbidden it. He had called Harry into his office late on the last day of school and told him that until Voldemort was defeated or Harry was an adept enough Occlumens to satisfy Dumbledore and Snape, he would not be allowed to Apparate. Otherwise, he had said, it was possible that the Dark Lord could break into Harry's mind as he was Apparating, causing Harry to either splinch himself (which could be fatal) or Apparate to a place of Voldemort's choosing (which could also be fatal). At any rate, he would be in Grimmauld Place by his birthday, and no one in the Order would take him to the Ministry if Dumbledore was against it.

Harry crumpled up his friends' letters and tossed them in his wastebasket. True to their words, he'd gotten a letter a day from both Hermione and Ron, and one letter from Ginny. They were all sympathetic, but for some reason, Harry found their sympathy irritating. He hadn't replied to any of the letters, he just read them through twice each and threw them away. After all, what could he say? 'Dear Ron, Today was just the same as yesterday. Aunt Petunia ignored me as I got myself some cereal for breakfast, then all three Dursleys ignored me while I ate. Then I went back to my room and reread "Flying with the Cannons". I had more cereal for lunch, since Dudley had eaten the last of the sandwiches Aunt Petunia made before I got downstairs. Then I took a nap and read some more. –Harry'?

Harry sighed and flopped down onto his bed. _My life just sucks right now…_ he thought.

* * *

The Tayledras and their friends had been traveling for four days, and Dawncloud was ecstatic. The change of scenery was exciting to her. By day they flew; at least, the gryphons flew. Everyone else rode in or on a basket. Since they didn't want to be spotted, the humans and those Gryphons with strong Mind-Gifts took turns shielding the group. There _was_ no invisibility spell; what they did was create a sort of mental projection of 'not-interesting'. Unless a mage had special precautions, or was specifically trying to look for them, they wouldn't be noticed. Any wisp of cloud would capture more attention than they would, and even if someone looked straight at them, it wouldn't make an impression. They wouldn't even remember having seen anything unusual. Dawncloud and a young gryphon male named Riodan, being weaker Mind-Mages, had the shortest shifts. They each had an hour, the first two after lift-off in the morning.

Now it was near dusk. Early that morning the party had flown over a body of water, which Sunfire had identified as the English Channel. Dawncloud had been more than usually keyed up since then, since she was the lookout. Their destination, Sunfire had told them all, was a castle. Last he had heard, Albus Dumbledore was a teacher there. Because of Dawncloud's natural visual strength, she was keeping her eyes peeled for the castle, leaving the Gryphons free to focus on flight instead of trying to pick out landmarks. She was riding the basket with the kyree Harrel in it today, and she kept up a running commentary to him of what she saw.

:It's pretty heavily forested along here now… fewer farms and all that… there's some sort of odd tracks through the woods, metal lines and wood slats… hold on, I think I see something… tell Sunfire I need to talk, would you:

Harrel relayed the message, and Dawncloud heard Sunfire's Mindvoice.

:What is it, 'Cloud: Sunfire asked.

:In the distance, there's a castle… it's surrounded by something like a Veil, Sunfire: She replied, meaning the magical barrier around a Vale (which kept mages from scrying inside and kept the weather like that of a tropical paradise, among other things). :It's weak, but it's definitely there.:

:That's the place, then. Dumbledore mentioned once that over the centuries, the use of magic had somehow soaked into the castle and grounds, creating a sort of magic field that prevents that teleporting trick our visitor did. I'll give the signal to land someplace in the woods surrounding the castle grounds. Then I'll send Kree with a message for Dumbledore.:

They touched down in a clearing near the edge of the forest. Dawncloud hopped off the basket and opened the lid for Harrel. _Life is great right now…_ she thought.


	5. A Meeting With Dumbledore

A/N: a reminder:

:Telepathic speech:

_Thought_

+Tayledras when it's being spoken among English speakers+

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was in his office. On the desk in front of him was a bowl full of what appeared to be silver, misty liquid. Looking into it, he poked the contents of the bowl with his wand. On the surface, an image grew. It was a young man with long silver hair, with a huge white crow on his shoulder. The man's pale blue eyes twinkled as the crow tugged a string of beads in his hair. He laughed. 

There was a tap at the window. Dumbledore looked up from the Pensieve on his desk. The tap came again. Fluttering at his window was a large white owl. Dumbledore waved his wand, and the window opened. In flew the owl. Clutched in its talons was a piece of parchment, which it dropped on Dumbledore's desk before swooping back out the window. The Headmaster of Hogwarts School picked up the parchment and unfolded it.

_Albus Dumbledore,_

_It has been nearly three decades since we fell out of touch. _

_Now I'm paying you a visit, along with several of my comrades. We greatly desire to speak with you, and I ask for old friendships' sake that you comply._

_On the back of this is a sketchy map of our current location. I trust you'll be able to find us. _

Adept Sunfire 

Dumbledore recognized the flowing handwriting and shot a glance at his pensieve.

"My, isn't he timely?" he murmured.

* * *

:I did it! I gave the paper to the man with funny glasses: Hwirr's Mindvoice was colored with pride and pleasure as he swooped down to land on Dawncloud's upheld arm. 

:Very good: Dawncloud told him, before turning to the rest of the group. Sunfire had decided against using Kree, his raven, since he had remembered that owls were actually the usual messenger birds in the world of wand-waving wizards.

"Success. Unless there's someone running around pretending to be your friend, Sunfire, he's got the message."

* * *

A short time later, Harrel's head jerked up from where he had been resting it on his paws. 

:There's a human coming: He called out to the entire party:Male and smelling of magic! He should be here shortly.:

The humans and hertasi, who had been setting up camp, either finished or set down their tasks for the moment. They, as well as the rest of the party, turned in the direction of Harrel's nose, alert. It was probably Sunfire's friend, but the Tayledras hadn't survived thousands of years as a people by being complacent in unfamiliar territory. They watched, with weapons ready to hand. Dumbledore emerged from the thick foliage around the clearing, looking composed.

+"It's him", Dawncloud said+"At least, there's no magic disguising this man."+

Sunfire stepped forward and offered his hand to one of the greatest wizards Hogwarts had ever seen. Dumbledore smiled and clasped it with his own.

"Adept Sunfire. The years have been kind to you." His voice was cordial, and he had spoken as though he had chanced upon an old friend in a bookshop, not as if he'd tramped through a section of forest on Sunfire's request.

"It's a pleasure to see you again, Dumbledore. These," he said with a sweep of his arm, "are my companions." He started a round of introductions, beginning with the dyheli, then Harrel, then the gryphons and hertasi, and finishing with the humans. "Daystar, the daytime Scout leader, Bonded to Chreek; Longshadow, a trondi'irn, or non-human caretaker, Bonded to Hweel; Riverwind, our Healer and herbalist, Bonded to Reet; and Dawncloud, my great granddaughter and a daytime Scout, Bonded to Hwirr." As each person was named, they nodded or waved a hand or tail. "All of the humans and gryphons are mages to some extent, and the dyheli, hertasi, and kyree have their own particular talents as well. We have come to aid you against the Dark Lord Voldemort."

Dumbledore, who had remained unruffled throughout introductions which would have given anyone (other than perhaps Hagrid) pause, looked startled at this declaration.

"That's certainly not what I was expecting. I thought you'd gotten my letter and wished for further details. It's a pleasant surprise, I assure you, but perhaps I'd best explain the whole of the matter before you jump right in."

So Dumbledore told his visitors everything about the war. He began in the late sixties, when Voldemort began his first rise to power. He explained Voldemort's supposed goals and ideals, how he had gathered followers by persuasion, trickery, or blackmail and begun a reign of terror in the wizarding world. He told them about forming a counter-group, the Order of the Phoenix. He told them how, on a night eighteen years ago, a prophecy had been made foretelling the birth of the one who could, who _must_ defeat Voldemort. He related how the Potter family had gone into hiding, entrusting the secret of their whereabouts to the wrong man. Their Secret Keeper betrayed them, handing them over to Voldemort. He told them how the woman had sacrificed her life for her son, thereby giving him a lasting protection, and causing Voldemort's death-curse to rebound upon himself. The man who had sold out the Potters, fearing for his life since his information had caused his master's downfall, had staged his own death, framing an innocent man. He went into hiding, and the child, with seemingly only a scar to show for a curse which should have killed him, was sent to live with his mother's sister and her family, a group of non-mages (Dumbledore called them 'Muggles') who abhorred magic. They tried their hardest to discipline, starve, and smother the magic out of him, but he had the talent and was accepted to Dumbledore's school at the age of eleven. Dumbledore related the events of Harry's years at school so far, admitting his folly in hiding the prophecy from him for so long, and concluding with:

"And for the past year he has been working openly against us. Few are eager to join the Order when they might pay for it with their lives, and prejudice has ever worked in Voldemort's favor. If you still wish to fight with us, your help would be greatly appreciated."

"That is why we came, is it not? Of course we shall still fight alongside the Order of the Phoenix." Sunfire spoke for the group, all of whom nodded. The humans had all gotten English from Sunfire via the dyheli transfer, as had the hertasi and kyree. The dyheli themselves had picked it up during the transfer, and half the gryphons had acquired it as well. Those that had chosen not to acquire English linked up with those who had, allowing them to understand what was said. It was a useful trick, allowing some of them to avoid the horrible reaction-headaches attendant on getting things from a dyheli.

"Now, you know the situation better than we do, so how can we help?"

* * *

Their roles had been decided, and Dawncloud was less than thrilled.

Dumbledore had actually been searching for a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. The rumors of a curse surrounding the position had driven off all but two applicants: Severus Snape and Remus Lupin. One, Dumbledore could not take on because he was already Potions Master, and the other because, despite the reemergence of Voldemort, people seemed to prefer their children to have substandard teaching to allowing them near a werewolf. Sunfire was taking on that job, where he could keep Dumbledore informed, teach, and possibly (although this would depend on circumstances) take on the task of teaching Harry Potter Occlumency (the term Dumbledore used for closing his mind to outside penetration).

Riverwind and Daystar would be staying in London at the headquarters of the Order. They would be working with select Order members to act against Voldemort and the Death Eaters in a number of ways. They would only be introduced to a few members of the Order, those whose loyalty was undoubted and unwavering. Dumbledore was being more careful in who he trusted this time around. The hertasi would be going with them, since, being cold-blooded, it was a bad idea for them to winter over in a forest or a drafty castle.

Longshadow, as the lone trondi'irn, was going to stay in the forest with the gryphons, dyheli, and Harrel. The whole encampment was going to be moved deeper into the Forbidden Forest, since Dumbledore said his Care of Magical Creatures professor often used this clearing for classes.

Since Dumbledore was worried about the possibility of an agent of Voldemort's gaining entry to the castle in order to harm Harry (which had happened twice before), Dawncloud was to be a sort of bodyguard. She was going to masquerade as a student, tailing Harry Potter from class to class. She had been chosen because she was the youngest of the party, and could still pass for seventeen or eighteen. Sunfire and Dumbledore had decided on a cover story and an alias for her to use, but they would require several things to happen before the plan could be put into action.


	6. Tayledras in Grimmauld Place

"Five…four…three…"

Dawncloud, along with three other humans and two hertasi, were standing in a circle, touching Dumbledore's pointy wizard's hat. The Headmaster of Hogwarts had insisted that Dawncloud and Sunfire be teleported to 'Headquarters' with the others, in order to visit Diagon Alley. Dumbledore had made them all memorize the address he wrote in the air with his wand. Then he had swept the hat off his head and pointed his wand at it. There had been a flash of magic that had burned briefly in Dawncloud's Sight. Then the magic had gone apparently dormant, and Dumbledore had told them to all make sure they were touching the hat. So everyone going grabbed a spot on the hat's brim and waited as Dumbledore began the countdown. Dawncloud felt very silly, and was beginning to wonder if, despite Sunfire's high regard, this Dumbledore fellow wasn't slightly cracked, when—

"Two… one!"

Dawncloud felt suddenly as if she were being hauled somewhere by her navel. All around her was whooshing air and the glare of strong magic, so bright her eyes watered and she saw spots. Then, as abruptly as it had begun, it stopped. Dawncloud landed hard on her feet, the unexpected impact, in addition to her spotty vision, causing her to lose her balance and fall to her knees. It was the embarrassment as much as the sharp pain in her kneecaps that cleared her vision and stopped any lingering dizziness. Dawncloud stood back up, looking at her companions. She was somewhat heartened to see that Riverwind looked discomfited as well, though she had not fallen. Daystar had an impressed expression on his face, and Sunfire wore a calm little smile.

_After living over a hundred years, I suppose I'd be pretty hard to rattle, too,_ Dawncloud thought, a little jealously.

Looking around, Dawncloud was not impressed. They stood in what was apparently the entrance area of a building. While it was large, and the original materials seemed to be of high quality, the place looked like it had been shut up for years. It was dismal and grimy, and smelled rather musty.

**BANG!**

Six heads swiveled around at the noise, to see Dumbledore standing at the top of the stairs. Dawncloud gasped in recognition.

"But that's just what—"

She didn't get to finish her sentence, as a horrible shrieking suddenly filled the air.

"HOW DARE YOU!"

Now six heads whipped around in the other direction. Near the door, framed by a pair of moth-eaten curtains, was a woman in a frame. She looked more than a little mad, an impression not helped in the least by the fact that she was screeching her head off.

"MY WORTHLESS TRAITOR SON GIVES THIS HOUSE, THAT HAS BEEN IN THE MOST NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK FOR GENERATIONS, TO THAT MANGY HALF-BLOOD! _HE_ LETS _YOU_ RUN THE PLACE, YOU DODDERING OLD _FOOL_, AND CONTRARY TO PROPER WIZARDING PRIDE, YOU FILL IT WITH BLOOD TRAITORS, MUDBLOODS, AND NOW DUMB BEASTS AND—"

Dumbledore had swept down the stairs during this rant and, before the portrait on the wall could voice her opinions on the human members of the party, had pulled shut the hangings. The voice was cut off. The Tayledras and hertasi were mildly stunned.

"My apologies for not warning you," said Dumbledore in a quiet voice. "That was one of the previous owners of the house, as you might have guessed. If we stay quiet, she won't awaken again." He gestured for them all to follow him and led the way into another room, this one set up with a lot of chairs and a long table.

"This house is the Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. This room is where our meetings are held, but you will not be a part of them for the time being. I think it best that we keep you all as secret as possible, at least until it becomes necessary to disclose your presence. You will mostly be working with my second-in-command."

**BANG!**

Everyone turned to look as a man appeared in the corner of the room.

"Ah, Remus, what impeccable timing. Remus Lupin, these are the newest members of the Order." Dumbledore introduced everyone, coming to Dawncloud last. This gave her a good opportunity to study this 'second-in-command'. Dawncloud, used to looking at Tayledras men, would have pegged his age at around sixty. He had a shabby, tired, underfed look that she was sure was going to make him a special project with the hertasi. What really had her staring at him wasn't his much-patched robes or stubbled cheeks, however. There was a subtle aura of magic that seemed to be in him, rather than on him, as if it was part of his blood. It put her in mind of descriptions given of Nyara and other Changechildren.

"…And this is Dawncloud. You'll probably see her even less than Sunfire, since she will be watching over Harry during the school year."

Lupin seemed to be suddenly very interested in Dawncloud. He stared at her, while addressing himself to Dumbledore.

"If you don't mind my asking, sir, why this young lady? Tonks offered to do the same thing, and she's a trained Auror. Besides which, Harry trusts her, and if he knows it's Tonks set to watch him—"

"If he knows Tonks is there to watch over him, Remus, don't you think that would make Harry all the more likely to try and elude her?" Dumbledore said, cutting off Lupin's arguments. "He's shown his dislike of safety measures in the past. Besides which, Tonks is, as you said, an Auror. We need as many of those helping us as possible. And as much as I admire Nymphadora Tonks, she isn't the right person for this job."

"And do you feel you are, Miss Dawncloud?" Lupin asked.

"I have been trained as a mage since I was seven years old," Dawncloud said in a soft, even voice. "I can move so quietly in the forest that I could grab you before you heard me. I am deadly with a crossbow or longbow. I can tell just by looking at you where you keep your magic stick, and" she raised her eyebrows, "that you are not just a normal human. So you tell me, am I qualified to keep one boy safe in a castle full of allies?"

When Dawncloud mentioned that he wasn't 'just a normal human', Lupin blanched and put a hand to his right thigh. He looked away from her for the first time since Dumbledore had said she was to guard Harry. He glanced at Dumbledore with a surprised and mildly confused expression.

"Like Moody's…? But then…" He said. Not waiting for an answer from Dumbledore, he visibly tried to compose himself before replying to Dawncloud's question.

"All right, it seems as if you're qualified to act as a bodyguard, but I'll tell you the same thing I've told Alastor Moody: I don't care how suspicious you are by nature; unless you have good— _very_ good—reasons for it, I don't want you looking through my clothes."

Dawncloud's eyes widened in surprise, then a wicked grin stole over her face.

"Is admiring your physique not a good enough reason, Mister Lupin?" She winked at him, very much enjoying watching his face go from stern and serious to shocked and, apparently, embarrassed. As he began to turn red, however, she relented. She wiped the smile off her face as best she could, though she could still feel a slight grin teasing at the corners of her mouth.

"I cannot look through your clothes, Mister Lupin, so you need not worry that I am peeping at you when you do not wish it." Lupin opened his mouth to speak, and Dawncloud forestalled him with a raised hand. "To answer your question, I know where you keep your magic wand because I can see the aura of magical energy surrounding it. The same goes for your not-entirely-human state: I can see that there is some magic flowing in your veins, although I'm not entirely sure what it is?" She phrased the last portion of her explanation as a question, curious about what exactly this man was.

"I'm a werewolf," Remus Lupin admitted with the slightest tinge of bitterness. "I thought you'd seen the scar from my bite, and had deduced the truth—that's why I assumed you could see through my clothing." He looked around to Dumbledore. "You might have warned me, and saved me the embarrassment."

Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling, and he wore a small smile as well. He was the least obviously amused. Riverwind was smothering giggles in her hands; Daystar had snorted audibly when Lupin asked Dawncloud not to look through his clothing and was now grinning almost as wickedly as Dawncloud had. The two hertasi were smiling broadly, pointy teeth bared, and Sunfire… Sunfire just seemed proud of his progeny.

"To be honest, Remus, I had not anticipated a display of skills. Sunfire told me once that his people can see the ebbs and flows of energy when they choose, but I seem to remember him telling me that they had to first go into a semi-trance state." Dumbledore glanced at Dawncloud. "Though perhaps you did that while I was making introductions?"

Dawncloud shook her head. "I'm something of an oddity, you see. While you're correct in saying Tayledras can see energy when they choose, I can't. Choose, that is. I see energy all the time."

"That could be helpful in your upcoming role," said Dumbledore, "but before you masquerade as a student in my school, you will need some things. You'll need a wand, first of all. Sunfire, to pass as a teacher you will need one as well. There's only one shop in England that sells them: Ollivander's in Diagon Alley. That will be our first stop."

Dawncloud and Sunfire both nodded and headed towards the door leading out.

"One moment, please." Dumbledore called. They stopped and turned to look at him. Dumbledore's voice was almost apologetic as he said: "Miss Dawncloud, you're a lovely young lady, but I'm afraid you look too outlandish to been seen on Diagon Alley without drawing undesirable attention."

Dawncloud looked at herself, then Dumbledore, Lupin, and Sunfire, who hadn't been told he needed altering. She made the connection: all three of them were wearing robes. Sunfire's were more colorful and decorated, but were still similar enough to the others' that they wouldn't occasion much comment. Dawncloud, on the other hand, was dressed for Scouting: tailored suede breeches, a blouse that was only loose enough to allow freedom of movement, knee-high soft leather boots, a leather jerkin, and a leather armguard so the Hwirr could perch on her arm if needed. She sighed.

"All right, if you can dig up a set of robes near enough to my size, I will change."


	7. Getting Wands

"We'll also have to dye your hair before we leave," said Dumbledore.

"My hair? But I only dyed it a week ago, it's still almost completely unfaded!" Dawncloud reached a hand up to her hair, cringing inwardly at the slight whine she heard in her voice.

All Tayledras Scouts dyed their hair, since their natural, silvery-white locks would stand out like a beacon in deep forest. For the most part, they spread their hair out and colored it in sections of gold, brown and olive green. Dawncloud had put a fair amount of effort into her current dye job. Looking at her hair through Hwirr's eyes, she had drawn in the dye rather than just slapping it on. She had ended up with a pattern that looked like overlapping brown and gold leaves on a green background, and she was rather proud of it.

"Normal witches only have one color of hair at a time, you see," Dumbledore explained, solemn except for the twinkle in his eyes.

"But…" Dawncloud started to protest, then stopped herself. "Oh, very well," she acceded, grumbling slightly, "I will re-dye my hair, but you'll have to teleport me back to our encampment. I didn't bring anything along; I wasn't expecting to have to change my appearance."

"That won't be necessary. I think I'm up to a little change of hair color," Dumbledore said merrily. He flicked his wand at Dawncloud, who flinched as a bolt of magical energy flew from it straight at her head. It briefly surrounded her hair, and then vanished. Dawncloud pulled a few strands forward and grimaced: it was black, one of her least favorite colors.

"Could you at least have made it bright red, or gold, or something?" She asked.

"Red or gold wouldn't have looked at all natural with your complexion, my dear." The amused reply came, surprisingly, from Lupin. He seemed to be finding the scene quite funny, perhaps because Dawncloud had so recently teased him. She managed a weak smile at him.

_I guess I deserve it for toying with him_, she thought. Aloud, she asked Dumbledore:

"And I suppose for your next feat, you're going to pull a set of robes out of your hat?"

He simply smiled at her and waved his wand again, in a different way. Dawncloud looked down at herself reflexively and yelped, jumping in shock. Her clothing was glowing with magic, and twitching as if it were alive. She closed her eyes.

"Just… tell me when it's over."

Scant seconds later, Sunfire told her to open her eyes. She looked down at herself and blinked, then gaped. Her leggings had become a knee-length suede skirt. Tucked into the skirt was her blouse, now button-down and slightly looser in the sleeves. Her jerkin had become a vest, and at her neck was a tie. Her boots only reached to mid-calf. Over everything was a robe of what seemed to be honey-colored satin. It all matched rather well, to the point of being monochromatic.

"You _have_ to show me how to do that when I get a wand." She said, in an awed tone. Laughter erupted around the room at the rapid changes in Dawncloud's expressions. She stuck her tongue out at her companions and new acquaintances.

"Well, now that I'm presentable, shall we go?"

"Certainly," said Dumbledore. "Remus, while I take Sunfire and Dawncloud out shopping, please find rooms agreeable to everybody."

With that, they left.

* * *

"This is the place." Dumbledore politely held open the door to a small shop on Diagon Alley, indicating that Sunfire and Dawncloud were to precede him.

Getting there hadn't taken that long. After leaving Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, Dumbledore had led them a reasonable distance away, to a sort of mini-park several streets down. He had held out his right hand, and **BANG,** the Knight Bus had appeared. Dumbledore had given a young man about Dawncloud's age a handful of coins and told him to take them to the Leaky Cauldron. The three of them had just taken seats in the back when the bus lurched forward at a high speed. The magical glow surrounding the vehicle was very bright, and Dawncloud was about to ask Dumbledore if it would bother him if she kept her eyes closed, when **BANG!** There was an intense flare of magic and a great lurch that flung Dawncloud out of her chair. For the rest of the ride, she had insisted on sitting on the ground, against the wall, with her eyes firmly shut.

When they had finally BANGed to a stop and the conductor had called out "Leaky Cauldron", Dawncloud was more than happy to disembark. As it turned out, they weren't the only people stopping there, so Dawncloud let the crowd sweep her into a small, shabby-looking pub. The inside of the tavern was as unassuming as the outside. Looking around, she noticed that pretty much everyone was indeed wearing robes, and felt a little better about Dumbledore's somewhat high-handed way of changing her clothes. Dumbledore came in and passed her as she was thinking that. He gestured that she should follow and led the way to the back of the building. Sunfire caught up as they were exiting into a small alleyway behind the tavern. Again, they weren't the only ones to be headed this way, although some of the people from the Knight Bus had stopped inside for a drink.

When they got outside, Dawncloud saw a few bins of rubbish, a stray cat, and a wall that glowed with magic. One brick in particular glowed very strongly. A witch close to the wall pulled out her wand and tapped the bright brick. The glow brightened and the entire wall shifted, forming an archway. The crowd shuffled through it and split up, everyone going to do their own errands. Dumbledore led the way again, Dawncloud following him somewhat reluctantly. There was so much to see, she wished she could have taken the time to wander at will. Then they were at Ollivander's. It was a narrow,battered-looking little building.Dawncloud briefly wondered if shabbiness was directly related to importance in wizarding buildings. They went in, Dumbledore bringing up the rear and closing the door behind them. The activity in the front of the shop had caught the attention of Mr. Ollivander himself.

"Dumbledore, what a surprise. Don't tell me you need a new wand?" He darted curiously piercing glances at Sunfire and Dawncloud as he spoke. Dumbledore smiled.

"Not today, Aristides. I'm just escorting these fine people. They recently emigrated from Spain, and unfortunately, in the hustle and bustle of unpacking, the gentleman's wand was broken. The young lady's was destroyed when she was expelled from school." Dawncloud barely restrained herself from gaping at this statement.

Mr. Ollivander nodded and pulled out a tape measure. "Very well, then. Please hold out your arms, Miss."

Dawncloud did so, and the little old man started measuring various parts of her, starting with the length of her fingers. As he did, the tape measure began to glow with magic. After six or seven different measurements, he let it go, and it continued taking measurements for several minutes while Mr. Ollivander was pulling various boxes down from the crowded shelves lining the shop. When he had balanced a rather precarious pile atop a spindly little chair in a corner, he waved at Dawncloud.

"Leave off, now, that's plenty."

Dawncloud was confused for a second, then the magic left the tape measure and it collapsed in a little heap in front of her feet. Mr. Ollivander walked over to her with one of the boxes and opened it. Inside was, of course, a wand.

"Twelve inches, willow, with dragon heartstring. Give it a swish."

Dawncloud, feeling a bit silly, picked up the wand and waved it about a bit. Nothing happened.

"Hmm, obviously not."

Seven other wands were tried in the same manner. Dawncloud was beginning to wonder what was expected to _happen_. After all, she wasn't deliberately trying to use magic, so how could merely waving a stick accomplish anything? Perhaps they were trying to find one that looked good in her hand, in the same vein as dying her hair black because it looked natural? Maybe she was expected to speak up when one felt particularly comfortable in her hand? She hoped that wasn't the case, because she hadn't been paying very close attention to how the handles felt. As she was musing about such things, she reflexively picked up the wand Mr. Ollivander was holding out and waved it. She was startled back to full attention by a sudden warm, tingly feeling of magic in her hand and a glow in the corner of her eye. She jerked her head around in time to see a fountain of purple and silver stars shoot from the end of the wand in her hand.

"Aha!" said Mr. Ollivander, "That took less time than I expected. You weren't the easiest customer, my dear, but finding a match on the ninth wand is none so bad. The famous Harry Potter went through forty-two before finding his. Holly and phoenix feather, it was. Bit of an unusual combination, that. Yours is unusual, too. _Lignum vitae_ and phoenix feather, fourteen inches. I made that a long time ago, thinking that wands from exotic wood might become fashionable. Lignum vitae is one of the hardest woods known to man; it'll be a good wand for powerful spells."

As he spoke, he put the rejected and untried wands back in their places, then retrieved his tape measure and gestured for Sunfire to hold his arms out. Sunfire went through the same measurement process as Dawncloud, but he found his wand on the second try. It was cherry wood, twelve inches, with a unicorn tail hair, and pronounced by Mr. Ollivander to be "good for charm work". As they were leaving, Mr. Ollivander called out.

"Just a moment, if you please. I need your names for my records."

Dumbledore answered for them: "You have just outfitted Professor Sol Morales DeSoto and his granddaughter, Miss Aurora Vasquez de la Vega."

Dawncloud—Aurora, for the time being—could see that she would have a lot to remember if she wasn't going to slip up and reveal herself. She felt a little better about her proposed role: perhaps she wasn't going to get to fight on the front lines, but at least it would provide something of a challenge.


	8. Harry and Sirius

Harry was sitting on his trunk just inside the front door of Number Four, Privet Drive. He was about to be picked up by a group of Order members. For the third year in a row, he was leaving his Aunt and Uncle's to go stay at the Order Headquarters (which, technically, now belonged to him). The Dursleys, sitting in the kitchen behind a closed door, preferred to pretend their house wasn't about to be swamped in wizards on brooms. They would have forbidden such a thing outright, of course, if they'd had any chance of getting their way.

Harry was dressed warmly (rather _too_ warmly for the early summer weather) and held his Firebolt loosely across his knees. As they had the past two years, the Order members coming to escort him would be traveling via broomstick; they had to, to accommodate Harry. He'd need the warm clothing when they got to the height they would mostly travel through. He hoped Ron had come along this time. Hermione, he knew, would be coming to Grimmauld Place later, and would take the Knight Bus to a nearby location or use Floo powder. Either way, she wouldn't be in his escort; flying was practically the only aspect of life in the wizarding world at which Hermione didn't excel. Harry checked his watch. _They'll be here soon_, he thought. The escort wasn't flying to get him; they were Apparating into the park a short walk away. Then two of them would come, knock on the door, and bring him back to the small park. The trees there would screen their take-off; at least, that was what Mad-Eye Moody insisted.

Almost as if it were on cue, there was a knock at the door. Harry eagerly pulled it open, more than ready to be gone from Privet Drive. Outside the door were Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt. Moody fixed his good eye on Harry, his magical one rolling around in his head.

"That was careless, boy. You should have asked for some sort of identification or at the very least checked the peephole before opening the door. Better yet, do both."

Harry didn't say anything. If he'd retorted that he was expecting them at this time, Moody would probably just come back with an admonition that The Enemy might have found out about the time for the meeting, set up an ambush for Harry's escort, killed them all, and come to finish Harry off.

The three walked back to the rest of the group, Shacklebolt levitating Harry's trunk behind them. Before knocking, Moody had used a Put-Outer borrowed from Dumbledore to darken the streetlights, so they didn't have to worry about anyone looking out and seeing a floating trunk. When they reached the small park, Harry was happy to see Ron sitting on the lone unbroken playground swing. They didn't speak, but Ron grinned and nodded to Harry, who nodded back. Tonks, who would be flying at the front again, signaled for Kingsley to leave the trunk floating while she harnessed it up and tied it to her broom. Harry mounted his Firebolt as the rest got on their respective brooms, and at Moody's signal, they all lifted off.

The trip was fairly uneventful. Moody had them take a rather twisted route to avoid being seen. All in all, Harry was very bored, and was more than happy to see the glittering patchwork of lights below that meant they'd reached London. He followed Tonks down and landed lightly in front of Grimmauld Place. Ron landed next to him, jogging forward and using the knocker. Harry came to stand next to him and heard the muffled sound of footsteps. Remus Lupin swung open the door, and Harry and Ron's mouths fell open in shock.

"Blimey!" was Ron's comment.

The formerly dim, dusty and grim front hallway looked… spectacular. The woods had been polished to a high gloss; the metal and glass were mirror-bright. The draperies on the windows and covering Mrs. Black's portrait looked brand-new, and no cobwebs or dust were anywhere to be seen. Where there had once been severed House-Elf heads on the staircase leading up hung a series of feathered masks. The chandelier was lit, along with the newly cleaned gaslights (which burned much more cheerfully, it seemed, than before), showing off just how much different everything looked. The light also made it easy to see Lupin. He looked better than Harry had ever seen him. He was still skinny and rather pale, but his hair had been trimmed, he looked like he'd had several nights of restful sleep, and he was wearing robes without a patch or darn anywhere Harry could see.

He was about to ask what had happened to change everything so much when Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt came in through the door, each carrying one end of his trunk. Tonks tripped over her own feet and dropped her end of the trunk with a resounding thud. Everyone in the hall cringed; that noise was sure to rouse Mrs. Black. They didn't expect what it really roused.

"Well!" came a voice that was cheerful, not shrieking, and obviously masculine. "Visitors! The more the merrier, you know, there's loads of space in this place."

Everybody started, and Harry paled visibly.

"S-Sirius?" he whispered.

The curtains had swung back, revealing, not the bug-eyed Mrs. Black, but Sirius Black. In the portrait, he was clean and healthy-looking, with his hair neatly trimmed and his facial hair groomed into a stylish goatee. He also looked immensely pleased to see everyone.

Lupin gripped Harry's shoulder, but he pitched his voice to be heard by everyone.

"As you can tell, things have changed a bit around here. The same, er, folks that we have to thank for this place being livable tried to get rid of Mrs. Black's portrait. They had about as much success as anyone else, so they… well, they painted right over her." The ghost of a smile crossed Remus' face. "I could hear her berating them about it from three floors up. The painter did the portrait from the Potters' wedding photos and the Azkaban wanted poster. At any rate, when Dumbledore stopped by this morning, he did the spell that gives paintings movement and personality."

"But Remus, we were all here Sunday for the last Order meeting," said Tonks, rubbing her bruised knees, "So how'd these 'folks' manage to fix up the old place in under a week?"

The smile on Lupin's face broadened slightly. "Actually, they've only been here about four days. They're just a lot more efficient than we are."

This exchange went right over Harry's head; he was still staring, dumbstruck, at the godfather he'd never expected to be able to speak to again. Lupin, noticing this, more or less herded everyone into the dining room, where there was a table spread with finger foods. Harry he left in the hallway, figuring he would appreciate a few private moments with Sirius.

The click as Lupin pulled the dining room door shut behind him snapped Harry out of the near-trance of shock he'd been in. He blinked a few times, and then looked around. Seeing that he was alone in the hallway, he ventured:

"Sirius? Is it really you?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes, Harry." Sirius's face had an oddly soft, thoughtful look that Harry associated with his reminiscences about James and Lily. He tried to reach for Harry, but his hand stopped, looking as though it were flattened against a glass wall. Sirius's face fell slightly.

"I _feel_ like me, if that makes any sense. But then, I suppose I'd feel like _me_ even if the _me_ I felt like wasn't the _me_ you knew…" Sirius glanced at his hand, sighed, and let it drop back to his side. "The last thing I remember is having you and the Weasleys all here for Christmas. Harry…" Sirius looked as if he was fighting with himself about something. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet and almost afraid.

"Harry, I'm not stupid. Just going by you reaction to me, I could guess that… that the flesh me is dead. How… how did I die?"

Harry felt like someone was squeezing his throat. It was as though he was getting his godfather back, but at the same time, he would have to admit to his face that he was partially to blame for his death. Harry wished Dumbledore had given Sirius all of his memories, and saved them both this discussion.

"I-It's a long story." Harry's voice emerged as a croak.

So Harry told Sirius about everything that had happened from Christmas to the fateful June day when the first great battle of the second war occurred. He told about the links between himself and Voldemort, how he was forced to take Occlumency lessons from Snape. He told Sirius about going into Snape's memory in the Pensieve, and how Snape had refused to teach him after that. He explained about breaking into Umbridge's office to talk to Sirius and Lupin about Snape's worst memory. He told of his recurring dream about the hallway in the Department of Mysteries. He told Sirius how first Dumbledore, then Hagrid, then McGonagall became unavailable. He told of his dream, of seeing Sirius being tortured in the Department of Mysteries. He told Sirius about breaking into Umbridge's office again, of being lied to by Kreacher, then caught. He told Sirius about leading Umbridge through the forest, about the near miss with the centaurs, about riding thestrals to the Ministry. He explained that it was all a trick by Voldemort to get the prophecy. He told of the entire battle, from the first appearance of Death Eaters up to Fudge's entrance.

For some reason, Harry found he couldn't stop there, despite the fact that Sirius' portrait had only asked about his death. He went on to tell Sirius about trying to contact him through the two-way mirror that used to be his father's; about hoping he'd become a ghost. He told the painted Sirius about the crushing weight of guilt and responsibility he'd felt for the past year. He talked briefly about how awful it felt to lose the only father figure he'd had, especially after finding out that his father hadn't always been as noble as everyone made him out to be. He told about resuming Occlumency lessons with Snape, of still making no progress blocking out Voldemort's feelings and thoughts. He admitted to Sirius that he sometimes felt what Voldemort felt, especially when he looked at Dumbledore. Though it may have seemed inconsequential, Harry told Sirius how he had become moody, and how his friends seemed almost scared to set him off. How he was aware of that, intellectually, but couldn't seem to help himself. He even mentioned his disgust with his celebrity status, and how he couldn't go three days without getting a letter from a stranger (Gladys Gudgeon wrote at least once a week).

When he was done, he looked away from Sirius and noticed, for the first time, a tray sitting on his trunk. He was sure it hadn't been there before he started talking, but he couldn't recall noticing anyone come out to leave it. On it were an empty glass, a pitcher of ice water, and a plate of what looked hors d'oevres. Suddenly he was aware of how dry his mouth and throat were. Harry poured himself a glass of water and drank it almost all the way down in one go.

"So… that's what's happened since your last memory." Harry said.

There was a pause. As the silence stretched out, Harry poured himself another glass of water and sipped at it. When the strain of the silence got to be too much, Harry blurted the first inconsequential thing that came to mind.

"Er, what'd Kreacher think of them painting over your mum's portrait?" He glanced back at the painting of Sirius, belatedly realizing that that might not have been at all a tactful question.

A slightly malicious smile spread across Sirius's face. "I didn't get to see, more's the pity, since the first step was to prime the canvas. That is, to begin with a coat of plain white paint, just over top of my screeching mother. But once I woke up, so to speak, I was able to overhear the painters asking what should be done with his body. It seems the loathesome little rat's heart burst when he saw them painting over his beloved mistress."

They shared a smile. Neither of them had liked Kreacher, and both were more than happy to have heard the last of him, especially in light of the fact that he had contributed to Sirius's death. Then Sirius grew serious again.

"Harry, it wasn't your fault I died."

Those were the words Harry had been desperately longing to hear for over a year. He was surprised to feel tears coursing down his cheeks as he smiled at his godfather. Harry felt as though a great weight had lifted from his shoulders. He had been carrying the guilt for Sirius's death for a long time, despite being told numerous times that he wasn't to blame. Somehow, it was different hearing that from Sirius.

That was the first of many talks Harry had with his godfather that summer.


	9. Speculation and New Knowledge

Hermione Apparated to Grimmauld Place in mid July. She had a nice tan, having gone with her parents to the French seashore. Harry occasionally wondered whether Hermione had ever told her parents about all the dangerous things she'd done with Ron and himself, but he didn't think asking was a good idea. After all, if she had, she might be insulted by the insinuation that she wasn't honest with her mum and dad, and if she hadn't, she might get guilty and defensive.

Hermione was openly impressed with the change in the once run-down and gloomy house. The mention of workers who were so much more efficient than the Order members at cleaning up the place had her briefly up in arms (with Ron bemoaning her dedication to S.P.E.W.), but she calmed down when Lupin assured her the helpers were _not_ House Elves, and would probably be mildly insulted to be confused with them. She was still very curious about who, exactly, the mysterious helpers _were_, but she couldn't get a straight answer from anyone about it. Fortunately, she soon got something to distract her.

One Sunday morning, Harry and Ron woke up to Hermione practically shrieking with excitement.

"Harry! Ron! Our letters came! Our letters came and I'm _Head Girl_!"

Harry sat up and rubbed his eyes, but Ron just pulled the covers over his head. Through his blankets, Harry and Hermione heard a sleepy grumble.

"'S not a surprise, everyone knew you would be. Stop bragging and lemme sleep."

Hermione rolled her eyes, and then winked at Harry. In a careless tone, she said:

"Oh, all right. I guess you're too tired to open your letter and find out what the lump in it is, then…"

Ron sat up quickly, shedding blankets. "Me! I'm Head Boy? I though for sure it'd be Ernie Macmillan; he practically sleeps with the prefect handbook!"

Hermione, grinning, sat down on the end of Ron's bed and handed over his letter, tossing Harry's across to him. Both boys opened their letters, Ron in a tearing hurry and Harry more slowly. A pin fell into Ron's hand. It was scarlet and gold and had the letters "HB" embossed on it. He stared at it for a few moments in shock, then whooped.

"I'm Head Boy, I'm _really_ Head Boy! This is _fantastic_! Maybe Mum'll buy me a new set of robes!" His current set was not only slightly battered, but thanks to a growth spurt last year, several inches too short at the arms and hems. "Hermione! Do you know what this means?" If Ron had looked happy before, now he looked positively ecstatic as something occurred to him. He didn't even wait for Hermione to try and answer before shouting:

"WE OUTRANK MALFOY!"

He was so happy that he grabbed Hermione, bear-hugged her, and kissed her on the cheek before bounding out of bed and to the door.

"I'm going to owl Mum about it!" He said, racing down the hall and clattering down the stairs.

Hermione sat on the end of Ron's bed, stunned, with her hand on her cheek. Harry pulled out his booklist and opened it to hide his grin. It was a rare treat to see Hermione not getting over a surprise immediately and beginning to analyze it. Then he actually looked at the list, and frowned. Something seemed off, but he couldn't put his finger on what. As much to distract her as to find an answer, he asked Hermione about it.

She picked up Ron's letter, which he had discarded on the bed in his mad dash to write to his mother. Harry and Ron were still taking the same classes, so anything that was wrong with Harry's list was probably wrong on Ron's as well. She looked at the list for a minute, then opened her own and glanced at it.

"There's no Defense Against the Dark Arts book, that's what's off about it, Harry. Mine doesn't have one, either." Hermione said, looking slightly worried.

"Maybe this year's Professor hasn't chosen one yet? Or maybe there's going to be class sets?" Harry offered.

"Or maybe," Hermione said darkly, "Dumbledore couldn't find anyone. No one's stayed on for more than a year in the last dozen or so, and ours so far have all had a horrible time. Quirrell died fighting you, Lockhart accidentally blasted his own mind away and ended up in St. Mungo's, Lupin was revealed as a werewolf and forced to leave, the _real_ Mad-Eye Moody was locked in a trunk and his imposter had the soul sucked out of him, Umbridge was carried off by centaurs, and Chesterfield had a nervous breakdown." She ticked them off on her fingers as she spoke.

_When you list them all like that, it really does seem like the job was cursed, _Harry thought. Despite Harry's hope that the threat of Voldemort would make people reorganize their priorities and opt to ask for Lupin, who was at least competent, they had gotten another new teacher. She was a fairly recent graduate of Hogwarts, being only in her early twenties. Unfortunately for her, Snape had been teaching when she went to school, and she was still intimidated by the Potions Master. His barbed comments hit home fairly often, and her confidence had not been increased when she found out that most of her Gryffindor sixth years could do a Patronus Charm (she couldn't). Around the time O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s had been taken, she had seemed as nervous and jumpy as her fifth and seventh years. She finally snapped as everyone was heading in to the farewell feast. As near as anyone could tell, Snape had made a comment in passing (no one other than Chesterfield and Snape himself had ever found out what, exactly, it had been), and it was the last straw. She started crying and shouting about what a vile person Snape was, and how she was resigning because she couldn't stand him being so deliberately vicious to her all the time.

Harry began to worry that Hermione was right, and they wouldn't _have_ a Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor this year. Of course, if they were going to have a teacher of the same caliber as, say, Umbridge, he supposed they were probably better off without.

* * *

Aurora, formerly known as Dawncloud, sighed and rubbed her temples.

She was sitting in the Hogwarts library amidst a huge pile of books. If she was going to pass herself off as a student, she would have to know the subjects Harry Potter took well enough to keep people from remarking on her odd lack of knowledge. Supposedly being from another country would help her a little, since she would be expected to know everything by a different name, but that would only take her so far.

When she had started this enterprise, she had expected it to be fairly simple. Follow the Potter boy around school; make sure no one _else_ is doing the same thing. It was guard duty, which she was used to, and she didn't expect any danger. After all, the only people she was likely to encounter were teachers (who, presumably, weren't about to attack anyone) and the students, who would only know as much magic as Potter and she wasn't expecting trouble from anyway.

Then she had found out that no one was supposed to _know_ she was guarding Harry Potter, so she would have to hide her identity. It wasn't difficult adjusting to a new name: all Tayledras were given use-names by their parents when they were born, but ninety-nine out of a hundred changed them when they were twelve or so, and perhaps four or five changed their names again after that. In Tayledras culture, your name reflected who you are. Dawncloud had chosen hers for several reasons: firstly, it reflected (she had felt) her light and airy attitude; secondly, she was a morning person; thirdly, she thought the purple-y color of clouds at dawn was a good match for her eyes. 'Aurora', she had been told, meant 'dawn' or 'light', so she felt it was an agreeable substitute. Within a week she was answering to 'Aurora' automatically.

It was harder to remember that she had a different _past_, now. Her parents, needing a break from tending their children (she was, supposedly, their fourth; her brothers and sister were all several years older than she), had asked her maternal grandfather (supposedly Sunfire/Sol) to care for their children for a couple of months while they went on a trip around the world for their second honeymoon. They were nearly finished with the trip, and were on their way back to their hotel after visiting Stonehenge, when the got caught in the crossfire of a fight between a batch of Aurors and some cornered Death Eaters. So her grandfather had raised her and her siblings. They had all lived in the all-wizard town of Los Magos. When they were old enough, all four children had gone to Noverda Dero Escuela de la Magia, a wizarding school. Their grandfather had taught Defense Against the Dark Arts there, until this past year. Recognizing the dire threat of Voldemort, he had acquiesced to Dumbledore's request to teach for him instead, since he owed Dumbledore a favor. Aurora, when her grandfather had explained why he was going to be teaching elsewhere, had staged a protest in the nearest branch office of the Spanish Ministry of Magic, denouncing their refusal to help England against the threat of Voldemort. A fair number of like-minded people had seen what she was doing and joined her. As they were not inciting or offering violence, they couldn't be arrested, but the Spanish Minister of Magic was becoming decidedly uneasy about the strength of the protests and was already very annoyed by the catchy chants they kept shouting. Silencing spells were, after all, rather tedious to maintain day after day. So he had put pressure on the school's Headmistress, who caved in and expelled Aurora. Her grandfather had asked Dumbledore for permission to bring her along to finish her schooling, and (in the interest of keeping the only person he could find to take the position as Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor) he had agreed, so there they were.

To Aurora, it seemed a little _too_ convenient a story, obviously designed to put her on Harry's good side and make him think they had a lot in common. Still, she supposed Dumbledore knew best.

In the interest of passing as a seventh-year student, Aurora had decided to learn about the subjects Harry was taking. She had turned down Dumbledore's offer to speak to the Professors and tell them not to ask her any questions in class or grade her homework with high standards. She knew that it would get out, eventually, that she wasn't up to speed with the rest of the students. Besides, even telling the teachers to cut her slack could be dangerous. From Dumbledore's long and complicated briefing of the Tayledras, it was obvious that, more than once, an agent of Voldemort's had gotten to Harry disguised as a teacher. The last thing she needed was an enemy agent wondering why she was getting so much special treatment. At the time, she had blithely assumed it wouldn't take her long at all to catch up to the rest of the students. _After all_, she had thought, _it's the wand that does most of the work._

"'The wand does most of the work', indeed." Aurora now muttered sarcastically to herself.

She didn't have a problem admitting she was wrong. At least, not _much_ of a problem. True, it was the wand, rather than the wizard, that controlled and directed the bulk of the magical energy for spells. But the wizard had to use _some_ mental energy to cast the spell, besides simply remembering the wand movement and incantation. And that wasn't even counting the classes the Potter boy was taking that _didn't _involve wands, such as Care of Magical Creatures and Potions. She had a bit of a head start in those, it was true, simply because as a Scout she was required to learn some basic skills from trondi'irns and Healers, but the sheer volume of information on both subjects was a little daunting. The subject she had taken to with the greatest speed was Transfiguration. There were very few incantations; it was more a question of concentration and imagination, which she had in spades. She also found some of the theories behind it fascinating, and spent more time reading up on that subject than she really should have, considering the numerous subjects she needed to study up on.

Aurora looked up, hearing the door to the Library creak open. Dumbledore walked in, followed by Sunfire. Both men smiled to see her in her barricade of books.

"How are you coming along, my dear?" asked Dumbledore, both politely and kindly.

"Not as well as I'd expected, sir," was the rueful answer. "I'm learning a good deal, but I don't think I'll be caught up by September."

Sunfire raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps we should ask Nevan for a little help?"

Aurora groaned, but nodded. "You're probably right, blast it. I _need_ to have this knowledge, and soon. Sooner than I can learn it on my own, at any rate." She sighed. "At least I'm somewhat more prepared now than I was when I got English from him. Though that hardly makes me any more eager to repeat the experience."

Dumbledore looked slightly puzzled. "I beg your pardon, but did you just say your mount taught you English?"

Aurora and Sunfire exchanged a glance. Sunfire indicated that Aurora should explain. She sighed.

"I suppose we didn't make it very clear. The dyheli, kyree, gryphons and hertasi are just as intelligent as humans. Actually," she said with a wry smile, "Some of them would insist they are a good deal _smarter_ than most humans. The dyheli and gryphons aren't just for transportation purposes, though they are kind enough to help us in that capacity. The dyheli are along mostly so that any of our allies who wish to learn our language may do so." Aurora paused to think. Finally, she said: "It isn't that the dyheli _teach_ things. It's more that they… implant them directly into your mind. The technique was created over a thousand years ago; the story of how it happened is part of one of our legends. At any rate, what they do is draw on the knowledge and memories of a person who can speak the language, then build it up in a non-speaker's mind the way it was learned. For example, I still have a noticeable accent because I got the English in a transfer from Sunfire, and he is not a native speaker. If the language had been transferred from you, I would have the same accent and ease of speaking as you do." She stopped again, to collect her thoughts. "If he were to transfer your knowledge of magic, though, that would be _all_ I would receive. The power, concentration, and expertise would be mine to supply, if I were to actually cast a spell."

Dumbledore now looked thoughtful. "That's quite intriguing, and in this case, advantageous. Normally, of course, I prefer students at my school to actually learn things for themselves. However, you are not precisely a student, and I believe you were right to caution against telling all of the teachers what your _real_ purpose at Hogwarts is. Not that I think any of my staff is an informant of Voldemort's; however, they might not always be discreet. The fewer people who know, the less chance anyone might let something slip."

Aurora knew all this; they had discussed it at length after Dumbledore had given her her cover story. The only Professor who was to know the truth was Minerva McGonagall. She was, after all, the Gryffindor head of house, and a member of the Order. If Aurora ever needed help with anything and couldn't reach Dumbledore, she was to go to McGonagall.

Now Sunfire spoke up. "Usually," he said, "We approve of learning things on one's own initiative, but in this case, there isn't time. It's simply more… expedient for her to get it from Nevan."

Aurora groaned. Use the word 'expedient' and you'd get any dyheli enthused. Still, she _did_ need the knowledge, and she needed it quickly. It was the only way, so she might as well agree. If she didn't, Nevan might go ahead and plant the information in her head _anyway_. It was, after all, expedient to do so.

"All right. Let's do this now and get it over with, or I will fret myself dreading it later." Aurora said fatalistically.

Both gentlemen agreed, so ten minutes later they were walking up to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where Nevan (having been Mindcalled by Sunfire) met them. They explained what they wanted, and he complied.

Sunfire caught Aurora as she fell. There was a trickle of blood coming from her nose. Dumbledore expressed some concern.

"Is something wrong? She doesn't look well at all." He said, anxiously.

Nevan answered him directly. :The transfer went as expected. This is nothing out of the ordinary:

Dumbledore was slightly startled to be addressed directly in his mind, but he did not let it disturb him. He simply looked to Sunfire for confirmation and explanation, lifting one eyebrow questioningly.

Sunfire, who had not been included in Nevan's reply, said: "This reaction is more or less to be expected. Thank you, Nevan, we'll be returning to the castle now." He nodded to the dyheli, who nodded in reply and turned to canter back into the trees. Sunfire headed back towards Hogwarts castle, Aurora unconscious in his arms and Dumbledore walking alongside. As they went, he clarified some things for Dumbledore.

"As we said, the dyheli transfer essentially just deposits the knowledge directly into the subject's mind. I suppose, considering how many of the beneficial spells you are used to involve little or no harmful side effects, it isn't surprising you didn't immediately guess what was happening."

"Ah, I think I see," Dumbledore murmured. "The sudden influx of all that information overloads the mind and causes the recipient to lose consciousness, much the same way a severe shock has been known to cause people to faint, is that it?"

"Precisely," Sunfire confirmed, "and it also gives the recipient a blinding headache when they awake. That's why I'm taking her back up to the castle instead of letting her wake up by the edge of the forest; I would guess you have some manner of pain-killing draught stocked in your infirmary, yes?"

Dumbledore nodded and led the way to the hospital wing. Aurora awoke there and was given the largest allowed dose of Percurare's Pain-free Potion. Once her headache was gone, Dumbledore asked her a fair number of questions and determined that the transfer was a complete success. She now knew enough, he said, to get a passing grade on the N.E.W.T.s in Harry's chosen subjects. She also, for some reason, had been given a basic knowledge of history by Nevan in the transfer. They hadn't asked for that, specifically, but Dumbledore, Sunfire, and Aurora all agreed it couldn't hurt to have it (though Aurora was a bit skeptical of the wisdom of giving her an extra subject on top of the five she had already had stuffed into her head).


	10. Sorting

A/N: I know the Sorting Song is a little jerky, but bear with me. I'm no poet.

This chapter's somewhat longer than most, which is part of why it took so long to finish and post. The other part is that I have a job now, and thus less free time to write.

* * *

For the first time in his life, Harry Potter was reluctant to go back to school. Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place had gone from a horrid, depressing place to stay to somewhere that felt… like home. He now had a large, clean bedroom all to himself, got to eat pretty much whatever he wanted when he was hungry (though he had yet to get a good look at the creatures responsible. Once, he saw a pair of stubby-fingered hands in what he assumed were dragonhide gloves whisking an empty tray away through a hidden door next to his fireplace. Ron swore he'd seen a tail tip whisking around a corner once, but since this had supposedly happened when he was in the darkened hallway off the kitchen, getting a midnight snack, Harry and Hermione were very skeptical.), had his two best friends with him, and best of all, could talk to his godfather again. The portrait of Sirius had, in fact, a tendency to follow Harry all over the house, sometimes elbowing his way past the inhabitants of other pictures.

When Harry thought about it, he realized that it was the best summer holidays he'd ever had. Minimal time spent at the Dursleys', more space than at the Burrow, plenty of time with Ron and Hermione, and Sirius: all of it combined to make this summer better than any other, including the summer before fourth year when he had gone to the Quidditch World Cup. He hadn't had Sirius with him then, and there had been the nastiness after the actual game.

But despite being happy at Grimmauld Place, he couldn't stay. It was September the first, which meant that it was time to go back to school. So Harry, Ron and Hermione were on the Hogwarts Express, Harry sharing a compartment with Neville, Luna, and Ginny once again. This ride was more relaxed than the last several had been, with Harry, Ginny, and Neville playing Exploding Snap and speculating about the lack of Defense Against The Dark Arts textbooks (Luna spoke up briefly to insist that one of the acromantulas living in the Forbidden Forest had taken the job and assigned no textbooks because it was illiterate; needless to say, no one else agreed). Hermione hadn't been the only person to wonder if they were to go without a teacher this year. Several members of Dumbledore's Army, the Defense Against the Dark Arts group Harry had headed in his fifth year at Hogwarts, stopped by the compartment to ask if he'd reform it if there wasn't a Professor this year.

Harry quickly got tired of saying: "Er, I hadn't really considered it… maybe…" and was more than happy to get off the train and into a Thestral-drawn coach with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. He then headed into the Great Hall and took a seat at the Gryffindor table, furthest from the staff table. The Great Hall was as magnificent as ever: the enchanted ceiling showed a clear night sky strewn with stars; the floating candles used as illumination burned bright and clear; the place settings on the tables sparkled. As many students were doing, Harry darted a glance at the staff table. Among the well-known faces, he was relieved to see a strange man sitting between Dumbledore and Professor Flitwick. So they _did_ have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor this year!

Harry watched as Professor McGonagall came out from the antechamber off of the Great Hall, carrying a stool and the Sorting Hat and followed by a line of nervous first years. When she set the Hat down on the stool and stepped back, an expectant hush fell over the crowd. The slit in the brim of the Hat opened and it started to sing:

_Hogwarts students new and old,_

_Welcome back into the fold,_

_Back to the classrooms and the halls_

_Where is taught magic that enthralls._

_Surprised to hear me singing?_

_Thought I'm just a plain old hat?_

_Well, your destiny I'm bringing,_

_Because I'm so much more than that._

_A thousand years ago and some_

_This noble school was well begun_

_By the Founders Four._

_There was hearty Gryffindor, _

_For whom courage was ever valued more;_

_Also came proud Slytherin,_

_Choosing students who had a drive to win._

_There was witty Ravenclaw,_

_Who, from the pack, the smartest did draw,_

_And not least was sweet Hufflepuff,_

_She thought magic and hard work were enough._

_And so Hogwarts students were chosen,_

_But since they surely knew_

_They could not live forever in time frozen,_

_They four made me to separate you._

_I'll keep doing what I'm made for until I turn to dust,_

_But I don't quite enjoy it, I do it 'cause I must._

_To make schoolmates into rivals seem to be a poor course,_

_Especially when evil threatens to take the world by force._

_Not all Slytherins are wicked,_

_not all Gryffindors are good,_

_But you all dislike each other, _

_because you seem to think you should._

_With the talents in each House, there really seem to be_

_Much better goals to pursue than such heated rivalry_

_So if you'd take advice from humble, tattered me_

_Don't let your differences become bitter enmity._

_Now take a seat, and put me on,_

_(Don't worry, I don't bite)_

_I guarantee that it's no con,_

_I'll place you in the House that fits just right!_

There were a few whispers going around the Hall after that; this was the third year that the Hat had been preachy. They stilled as McGonagall unrolled her parchment list and started reading off student names. Harry clapped politely for every student Sorted into Gryffindor. After the last student was Sorted ("Zimmerman, Alice," went to Ravenclaw), Dumbledore stood and began his customary speech.

"Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! Among your smiling and familiar faces, there are many new people. Among them, I am pleased to introduce Professor DeSoto, who has kindly come all the way from Noverda Dero Escuela de la Magia in Spain to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts." Dumbledore paused for the enthusiastic applause that followed this announcement. When it stopped he continued: "Now we have something a little unorthodox. Among the new students this year, we are going to be hosting a transfer student from Noverda Dero Escuela de la Magia: Professor DeSoto's granddaughter, Aurora Vasquez de la Vega."

Murmuring broke out among the students in the Great Hall as Aurora strode out of the anteroom the first years had waited in. She crossed to the Sorting Hat, picked it up, and sat on the stool (which looked somewhat silly, since it was built with eleven-year-olds in mind). Dumbledore had told her that her personality was probably closest matched to Gryffindor, but if the Hat seemed to waffle, she should be emphatic about her desire to _be_ in Gryffindor. Aurora put on the Hat.

"TOO OLD TO BE SORTED!" it immediately shouted.

Aurora sat still for a moment. For that moment, everyone in the Great Hall was silent, stunned. Then the Hat started shouting again:

"YOU'RE TOO OLD TO BE SORTED! TAKE ME OFF YOUR HEAD, _NOW_!"

Aurora quickly swiped the Hat off of her head as asked. She looked to Dumbledore, puzzled, as the students once again broke out into a frenzy of whispers. If he was shocked and off-balance because of the Sorting Hat's refusal to place her, he didn't show it. He simply smiled benevolently and gestured for silence. Slowly the students quieted down.

"It seems the Sorting Hat has an age limit. We'll simply have to place Miss de la Vega in a house in a somewhat more arbitrary way." Dumbledore said. He held out one hand in a fist and waved his wand over it. In it appeared four straws. "Severus, Minerva, Pomona, Filius, if you would be so kind as to draw lots."

The four Heads of House walked over to Dumbledore with varying expressions on their faces. Snape looked sour, Sprout and Flitwick seemed simply cheerful, and McGonagall had her usual serious appearance. They drew, and Aurora Saw Dumbledore using magic to make the straw Professor McGonagall pulled come out longer than the others.

"And it seems the Gryffindors will be hosting our new student this year!" Dumbledore announced jovially. "Now, since Miss de la Vega is new, I will be assigning her a student guide to help her find her way around." He waved his wand once more, and in front of him appeared a large roll of parchment, which he quickly scanned. He waved his wand again and it vanished. "It appears we have two Gryffindor students taking exactly the same classes. Now, one is Ronald Weasley, our current Head boy. However, aside from his duties as Head Boy, he also captains his House Quidditch team. And, of course, does his homework," Dumbledore added with a hint of humor, "So I think it would be better to partner you with the other student, who has somewhat less to occupy his school days. Harry Potter will be your student guide, Miss de la Vega."

Aurora smiled and nodded, then headed off towards the empty chair Dumbledore conjured up next to Harry, ignoring the curious glances and murmuring coming from the students. She had to admire Dumbledore; the man was creative, a quick thinker, and one hell of a showman. He was also a masterful wizard: he never seemed to use one jot more power than necessary in his spell casting, and had an incredible amount of finesse.

Harry, on the other hand, wasn't feeling particularly charitable towards his Headmaster. He felt blindsided and a bit double-crossed. It was unfair of Dumbledore, he thought, to neglect to make him a prefect or Head Boy because he had "quite enough responsibility to be getting on with" and to then turn and foist guide duties for a new student on him. He tried not to let his feelings of annoyance and betrayal show as the girl neared the seat conjured up for her; after all, it was hardly _her_ fault he was stuck with her: she hadn't even been Sorted properly.

As he thought that, he realized that she _hadn't_ been Sorted properly, and hoped desperately that she wasn't the type of person who would have fit in well in Slytherin.

Aurora sat down, and Dumbledore spoke once more:

"Without further ado, the feast!"

Dumbledore sat down and the tables were suddenly filled with food. At the Gryffindor table, the seventh years alternated between serving themselves and giving their new housemate sidelong looks. Finally Ron spoke up.

"So, why're we stuck with you?"

"Ron!" Hermione, who was sitting next to Ron, elbowed him in the ribs, looking dismayed at his lack of tact.

"Oof!" Ron glared at Hermione for half a second before saying: "I just wondered why she didn't finish school at that Noverdora place. It's not as if Flooing takes a whole lot of effort."

"Oh, is that what you were curious about?" Aurora said, with what she hoped was a charming smile. "I could not finish my schooling there because I was expelled."

There were several reactions to this statement among the seventh year Gryffindors. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan appeared mildly impressed; Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown quickly exchanged a few whispered comments, coupled with inquisitive and scandalized glances in Aurora's direction; Annabelle Black (no relation to Sirius) and Sally Perks looked stunned; Hermione seemed shocked, and Ron, Harry, and Neville simply looked curious. Despite his resentment over being saddled with her, Harry heard himself asking:

"What did you _do_?"

He couldn't help but wonder. After all, Fred and George Weasley had pulled some pretty huge pranks in their day, but they had never been expelled (Umbridge might have, but they escaped before she truly got the chance). This girl didn't look particularly rebellious or thuggish, though it was hard to tell much about a person in school robes.

Aurora shrugged. "The story is somewhat long, and not particularly interesting, but if you wish to know it, I shall oblige you. My grandfather, as you know, taught in Noverda Dero, and when he told me he was leaving a position he had held for more than thirty years, naturally, I was curious. I asked him why he would so suddenly do such a thing, and he told me of his friend Dumbledore, to whom he owed a long-standing favor, and of this evil wizard Voldemort Dumbledore and England were dealing with."

Once again, Aurora's words caused several reactions; or rather, one word did. Parvati and Sally squealed, Lavender and Neville gasped, Dean uttered a weak "Blimey!", Ron and Seamus flinched, Anabelle started, and Hermione and Harry looked almost impressed. This puzzled Aurora, as she didn't think she'd come to the startling part of her narrative yet.

"What is the matter?" she asked.

"You said Voldemort's name," Harry answered. The results around the table were much the same.

Aurora was still confused. "And so you did, just now."

"Yes, but not everyone does, you see. Most people are afraid of saying it." Hermione put in.

"But that does not make sense. Names give power, to a certain extent. Being afraid to use a name is giving up some of the power you can have over the one named. It is like admitting you cannot stand against him." Aurora insisted.

"That's sort of like something Dumbledore once told me." Harry said.

"I think that Professor Dumbledore knows a great deal more than he lets on." Aurora said. "But at any rate, you were asking how it is that I was expelled from school. As I said, Grandfather told me about Voldemort and his reign of terror. I asked him, naturally, why it was that I had heard nothing of this on the radio or in the newspaper. He told me that it was most likely that the government refused to acknowledge Voldemort's return, and so they were putting pressure on the media not to report anything about it. They likely felt it was England's problem to deal with. I thought that this was a stupid way to look at this problem. After all, look at what happened over fifty years ago in Germany." Several of her audience looked blank, and it occurred to Aurora that Dumbledore was certainly better versed in wizarding history than his students. "A Dark wizard by the name of Grindelwald rose to power with an army of supporters and began to commit genocide. The magical governments in the rest of Europe either pretended he did not exist, or essentially took the position that it was Germany's problem to handle. Then this Dark Wizard took over the government of Germany, both magical and Muggle, and still the rest of Europe did nothing to oppose him. He started attacking other countries, and only then did the rest of the world become uneasy. This one wizard sparked a war that affected most of the world. In the end, your Headmaster was the one who stopped him."

"Like it says on the chocolate frog cards," Neville said.

"Um, yes." Aurora said, not really sure what 'chocolate frog cards' were. "So when I heard that the government was keeping the wizards and witches of Spain in the dark, I decided to do something about it. I went to the nearest government building— you would call it, perhaps, a branch office of the Ministry— and began asking questions. I asked why the government was not sending aid to England, when this Voldemort clearly has the potential to become the next Grindelwald. The lower-level officials seemed as uninformed as the general public, but when I reached the higher officials— which took a long time, and much filling out of forms— they acted annoyed or angry, and threw me out of the building. This did not discourage me for long. I went to my friends and told them of what was going on, and we rallied in front of the building with signs and much chanting. This attracted much attention from passerby, and irritated those who worked in the building or had regular business there. So they put up silencing spells in the offices. Unbeknownst to me, the person in command of the building, who was the head of our magical law enforcement department, was putting pressure on my headmistress to do something to discipline me. As I was not committing any crime, of course, she was reluctant to do anything drastic." Aurora smiled wryly, deciding to alter the original story just a bit. "If I had known that my continued schooling was at stake, I might not have done what I did. The lack of response was discouraging, so I tried to think of another way to affect them. I eventually created a spell to cause it to rain blood inside the building."

The effect of this statement was marked. Most of Aurora's audience had looks of horror on their faces, and Lavender shrieked "Eeeeew, _blood!_"

"Well, it was not really blood. It did, however, look and smell like blood. And when it got on the hands, it had roughly the same texture. It only stuck to hands; that was the most difficult part of the spell. When it hit papers or furniture, it vanished, but when it got on the hands, it stuck. I thought at the time it was a grand symbolic gesture, and that I would avoid reprisals and accusations of vandalism by not staining the government property. I was, obviously, wrong. They brought up charges against me, claiming that, during the workday, the hands of employees belong to them; thus, I had defiled government property. So I was expelled, and I had to come to Hogwarts to finish my education. The system is a little different, and the language is not my native tongue, but the material, I am told, is much the same, so I hope I shall do well."

The Gryffindor seventh years looked markedly more welcoming now. Several of them looked impressed, and Hermione had an expression of curiosity.

"How did you manage to make it rain blood, only inside the building, and that only stuck to people's hands?" she asked.

Aurora, who had been thinking of this for several minutes, answered: "It was a combination of several things, and took me almost a month to get right. First, I mixed the Bloodwater Potion: that which is given to vampires in lieu of feeding on people… when, that is, they can be persuaded to take it. Next, I added that to an old country spell for the watering of crops; I do not know the name of it here. What you do, usually, is to combine a spoken incantation with a substance thrown into the air. Usually, that is water, but I substituted a cup of Bloodwater Potion. The hardest part was making the blood substitute stick only to the hands. That alone took nearly three weeks. I first tried an identification and adherence spell, but it consistently misidentified and stained all my skin. I had to modify it for it to work properly, and that took time."

Aside from Hermione, the Gryffindors weren't interested in the technical details of what she had done, so most of them had turned their attention back to their food. Harry kept glancing at her, hoping she was a nice sort of person to be around, since he'd be stuck with her for a while. There was a little more chatting, but for the most part, the meal was finished with a minimum of talk. When it was over, Harry stood up and gestured to Aurora.

"Come on, then… follow me to the dorm." he said. Aurora got up and followed him to the Gryffindor tower. She already knew where the entrance was; she'd found the entrances to all the living quarters. It was easy when you could See which portraits, statues, or sections of wall were magicked. She'd figured out most of the hidden passages, and found out how to get into the kitchen, but the remaining enchanted entrances were, she assumed, the ones requiring passwords. Now she'd finally get to see where she'd be sleeping during the year.


	11. First Day of School

Harry and Ron entered the common room the next morning only to find Aurora waiting for Harry. They didn't know it, but after being shown up to the seventh year girls' dorm room by Hermione, she had snuck back downstairs to the common room and spent the night asleep on a couch. A very light sleeper, she had awoken at the first sound of life from above and gotten up to get ready.

"Right. Well, then, er, let's get going to breakfast," Harry said, feeling a bit uncomfortable. He wondered how he was supposed to act. Perhaps he should behave like one of the announcers on Muggle sightseeing tour buses? 'On your left you can see a statue of a humpbacked witch that houses a very little-known (and less used) passage to a tunnel to Hogsmeade…' Shaking his head at the thought, he climbed out of the portrait hole and went down to the Great Hall, Ron alongside him, and Aurora trailing just slightly behind and to one side, which unnerved him slightly.

They sat down at the Gryffindor table and served themselves. Hermione was already there, reading the Transfiguration book and munching on toast. Ron looked at her and rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything. As they were finishing up, a mass of owls flew in to deliver the morning mail. Amidst the parcels of things forgotten at home ("Oh, thank goodness," Neville was heard to mutter, "Gran sent my socks!") were school schedules. Harry's, Ron's, and Aurora's schedules were all the same, of course.

"Charms first, then a break," Ron said, and then groaned. "And Double Potions with the Slytherins after lunch."

The four stood up and headed to class. Aurora was careful to appear awed and intimidated by the size of the castle.

Once lessons started, Professor Flitwick set the class to practicing Shrinking Charms while he took Aurora aside. He asked her a great number of questions and asked her to do quite a few spells; at the end of the interview he was more than satisfied that she was up to speed with the rest of the class. Then he told her to ask Hermione for help learning the Shrinking Charm after school, since class was almost over, and she performed it flawlessly, which impressed the professor and earned Gryffindor five points. Aurora felt a little badly about the advantage she had over the other students, but she consoled herself with the fact that she had a responsibility outside of classwork that they couldn't have handled. After all, watching Harry was going to be a nearly full-time job, and she didn't have leisure time to learn things the hard way.

Aurora followed Harry and Ron and up to the common room for their free class while Hermione headed to History of Magic. She watched them play wizard chess for an hour, then followed them to the Great Hall for lunch.

After lunch, she followed the trio to the Dungeons. The only other Gryffindor there was Dean Thomas; the students with Slytherin insignia far outnumbered them. As Hermione explained to Aurora later, this was because Snape strongly favored his own House. Of the Seventh Years, only Crabbe and Goyle (who were known for their stupidity) were no longer in Potions. No matter how leniently Snape graded them, they still could not get the high marks he required for entry into Advanced Potions.

Aurora hadn't met the Potions Master before; during summer he chose to take his meals in his room rather than go to the Great Hall. Now she got a look at him, and her eyes were instantly drawn to his left forearm. She couldn't actually _see_ his forearm through his robes, but she Saw a magical signature that struck a chord in her memory. She couldn't place where she'd Seen it before, but she knew if she mulled it over in the back of her mind, the answer would come to her. For the moment, she raised her gaze to a sneering, hook-nosed face.

"I don't know what sort of standards your old school had, girl," Snape drawled, "but to be allowed to take Advanced Potions with me, you have to prove yourself competent." He waved his wand at the blackboard and a set of instructions appeared. "The rest of you, get to work brewing the Disrupting Draught. You" he said to Aurora, "will have to make up this lesson another time… _if_ you meet my criteria for attendance in my class."

What followed for her was another round of questions, then a practical exam consisting of identifying potions ingredients, then mixing a Purifying Potion. The Potion would have to age for two days before it was technically completed and could be tested, but by the sour look on Snape's face, she guessed he was stuck with another Gryffindor in his class.

Harry glanced over at Aurora a time or two during the class, and watched her brewing her potion after he'd finished his. He felt sorry for her, and much more sympathetic than he had been the night before. She had had to transfer to a foreign school in her last year, deal with speaking in a language not her own, be gawked at by the students and run through her paces by the teachers, all before her first school day was over. It reminded him a little of his first day at Hogwarts, up to and including the fact that Snape seemed to hate her on sight. He considered the possibility that Dumbledore had assigned her to Harry on purpose because he could empathize with her situation a little better than Ron could.

When the bell rang to release them from class, Harry smiled sympathetically at Aurora and gestured for her to follow him. Harry, Ron, and Hermione, with Aurora following, joined the stream of students heading for the Great Hall. They sat at the end of the Gryffindor table, Aurora next to Harry and Ron and Hermione across from them. While serving himself, Ron addressed Harry.

"We have to have tryouts this Saturday to replace Alicia. I honestly don't know what we're going to do unless last year's applicants suddenly got loads better. Ginny and Elizabeth are good, but they were the _only_ ones in last year's tryouts who were even half-decent. Unless some of the second years this time are really good, we're going to have to field a poor Chaser, and that could seriously hurt our chances at winning the Quidditch Cup."

Thanks to the knowledge and memories she had gotten from Dumbledore, Aurora had a pretty solid idea what Quidditch was. She sighed mentally; sports practices were just one more activity she'd have to follow Harry to in order to be an effective bodyguard, and the only way for her to be at every practice and every game without it being suspicious… was to join the team. After Harry had agreed with Ron about the poor prospective players, Aurora offered:

"I am a fair flyer; what must I do in order to 'try out'?"

Ron looked over at her with a surprised and hopeful expression on his face. "You're good at Quidditch?"

"Not exactly," Aurora said, scrambling to come up with a plausible story for this eventuality. She had to make it seem like she would be a good candidate for the team without appearing to know the rules already, since she only had a general idea how the game was played, and lacked the finer points.

"What do you mean, 'not exactly'?" Ron asked. "You either are or you're not."

"Where I come from," Aurora said, thinking fast, "Girls are not allowed to play Quidditch. It is considered too potentially violent for us. Instead we race brooms competitively, and fly obstacle courses, and the like. Also, my school did not have separate houses, just year dormitories. There weren't any scheduled games, so I sometimes caught the end or beginning of an informal game between classes, but I've never sat through a whole game."

Ron looked a little disappointed, as though he'd been hoping she would say she was her school's star chaser. "Well, you can come down to the Pitch with Harry Saturday and try out. Did you bring a broom when you came here?"

Aurora shook her head. "I used a school broom before; I do not own one."

Ron started eating, having settled all the important questions. Around a mouthful of mashed potatoes, he said: "Aaah ri', 'f oo cahh fly weh enuhh on a schoo' broom t' ma' th' team, mebbe M'Gon'gal'll geshoo a Nimbush."

Aurora looked at Hermione in puzzlement. Hermione sighed, gave Ron a mildly disgusted look, and translated. "He said 'All right, if you can fly well enough on a school broom to make the team, maybe Professor McGonagall will get you a Nimbus.' Honestly, Ron, when are you going to stop talking with your mouth full?"

Aurora nodded, and the talk turned to classes. They speculated about what tomorrow's lessons were likely to entail and whether the other teachers would quiz Aurora. The mood at the Gryffindor table was decidedly more open and welcoming towards her. Harry, Ron, and Hermione in particular were being kind to her, and Aurora felt, for the first time, a little guilty about deceiving them. When the year was over and they found out she was really there to watch Harry, wouldn't they feel betrayed, and foolish for being kind to her?

That thought stayed with her for the rest of dinner, and afterwards kept her up most of the night.


	12. Jarvies and Transfigurative Models

The following day began much the same. Aurora was already awake and waiting for Harry when he and Ron came down to the common room. As before, they met Hermione there, reading a textbook. They ate and went outside, heading down to the cottage where Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper and Care of Magical Creatures Professor, lived. They were the first there, as the class didn't start for another several minutes. Harry knocked on the door.

"I'm 'round back!" a deep voice called.

The four walked around the house to the back garden, where Hagrid was watering a pumpkin the size of a small wheelbarrow. He looked up as they came close and broke into a big grin.

"All righ', Harry, Ron, Hermione? Have nice 'olidays?" he said. Then he noticed Aurora. "'Ello, yer the new lass, ain't ye? How do ye like it here?"

The trio let Aurora answer first. "The castle and grounds are most impressive, and the teachers seem very… thorough." she said with a wry grin. Ron snickered and Hermione and Harry smiled.

"Aye, well, Dumbledore won' hire anyone as a teacher who don' know his stuff… Lockhart was the exception, o' course. I feel honored ter be a Professor, ye know." Hagrid said, beaming.

"You _should_ feel _lucky_. It isn't every day that someone with your _unique_ background manages to become a Professor."

The voice was incredibly snide, the emphases made on certain words conveying a sort of smug superiority that set Aurora's nerves on edge. Who talked that way to a professor? She turned with Harry, Ron and Hermione to see a boy in Slytherin robes, with slicked-back blonde hair and a rather nasty smirk on his face. Behind him stood two larger boys, built rather like gorillas, who were grinning and chuckling. Harry opened his mouth to retort to the blonde boy when another, slightly squeaky voice with phrasing uncannily like the Slytherin boy's spoke up.

"It isn't every day someone with your unique background manages to make such a great steaming turd out of himself."

Everyone was stunned for a moment, except Hagrid, who beamed. Since most of the class had formed up during this exchange (and were currently looking around for the source of the voice), Hagrid addressed them all.

"What ye just heard was a Jarvey," he said, still beaming. Then he whistled, and a ferret-like creature the size of a small dog surged out of the bushes near the edge of Hagrid's garden. "This ickle fella is today's lesson. I wanted something a bit livelier, like a manticore, bu' Dumbledore said it takes months t' go through the paperwork t' import one legally, so I'll be savin' that for yer midterms." Several of the students darted nervous glances at each other after _that_ statement. "Now, about Jarveys. They burrow underground an' mostly eat small critters like moles or mice. Jarveys are one o' the few species that wizards know can talk, but all they ever do is insult ye. A bit like parrots, they are, only they have a knack for pickin' up rude phrases."

"I don't know," Ron said, "It seems like it was dead on describing Malfoy to me. Maybe they're smarter than you think."

The boy Ron had referred to as Malfoy glowered, and was about to snap something back when the Jarvey interrupted again. It looked straight at Ron and said, with no inflection whatsoever:

"Wanker."

The Slytherins burst out laughing, and Aurora couldn't help but giggle. Ron flushed and glared at her, and Harry gave her an affronted look, so she shrugged.

"Well, Ron, you were rather leaving yourself open for something like that. It probably insults whoever or whatever catches its attention."

Almost as if proving her point, the Jarvey scampered up to her, looked her up and down, and pronounced:

"Brainless bint." Then it went over to the Slytherins, and started yipping at them: "Unmannerly louts! Grotty little snots! Bum-licking gnomes!"

Aurora shrugged. "See what I mean? It has very little to do with personal merit."

The rest of the class was spent sketching the Jarvey listening to it insult people. Then the students packed up their things and headed to lunch, which was fairly uneventful. The afternoon's class was Transfiguration, to which Aurora was actually looking forward.

As she entered the classroom, Professor McGonagall gave Aurora a significant look, with a raised eyebrow, obviously asking if she was up to passing the same sort of test in Transfiguration as she'd gone through for Potions and Charms. Aurora gave a minute nod. Professor McGonagall took that as the affirmative answer it was, and once the class was seated, gestured for her to stand.

"Miss de la Vega, before we begin the regular lesson, I must ascertain that you are familiar enough with the material to keep up. If you would please Transfigure your desk into a goblet, then a terrier, and back into a desk."

Aurora gave a short nod of respect to the teacher before pulling out her wand. She was about to wave it at the desk when she paused and looked at the older witch.

"Do I have your permission to attempt to use a non-standard technique, Professor?"

Professor McGonagall looked surprised and did not immediately answer. The rest of the class was by now riveted on this test; even if they weren't all as keenly interested in this 'non-standard technique' as Hermione was, it was still something new and would keep them from class work for a few extra moments. With a slightly worried frown-line between her eyebrows, McGonagall nodded.

"You may."

Aurora raised her wand again and concentrated. The desk in front of her began to glow and flash, rippling like the heat-shimmering air above a desert. Part of it started to swirl and solidify into a chalice shape, and then gradually turn transparent. The rest of it seemed to melt away into nothing. Aurora directed the newly made goblet to drift over to McGonagall's desk, and then lowered her wand. It was a few moments before anyone spoke.

"Well," Professor McGonagall finally said, "That was flashy, but undeniably effective. Why did you choose to do things that way, rather than simply using the customary methods?"

"I had been reading Adalbert Waffling's _Treatise on the Transifgurative Models_, and he hypothesized that matter, in Transfigurations involving a large difference in size, does not simply compress or expand but is transferred to or from an alternate plane of reality. That was why, in his estimation, it is simpler to Transfigure objects into other items of similar size, and truly great wizards can Conjure objects from nothing; only those with sufficient expertise can successfully access these storages of matter. It is also why, supposedly, wizards do not simply Conjure up houses and furniture and clothing; it would take a great deal more power than it is worth to pull material from its natural plane and hold it here, which is why most Transfigurations are temporary. I just wanted to see if slowing the process would enable us to see the matter transference, rather than just the final result."

After this speech, even Professor McGonagall was looking a little stunned. There were a few students gaping, and a few more muttering among themselves. Aurora waved her wand again, and the goblet turned into a terrier in the usual instantaneous method. The terrier jumped down from McGonagall's desk and scampered over to where Aurora was standing. Aurora flicked her wand at it and it was a desk again.

"Very well," Professor McGonagall said, "That was a more than adequate performance. Five points to Gryffindor for exceeding expectations." Pushing her spectacles up her nose, she surveyed the other students. "The rest of you will be turning powderpuffs into puppies this lesson. Choose your subject from the box on my desk and get started. Miss de la Vega, I would like a further word with you outside."

Aurora and the Professor exited the classroom and McGonagall shut the door behind them.

"What were you thinking, child?" McGonagall said in low tones, to avoid being overheard. "That's hardly the way to look innocuous and ordinary."

"It occurred to me," Aurora explained, "that it is most probably impossible for me to be inconspicuous, since I am a foreign, and thus a minor curiosity. Thus, I decided that it would be advantageous to be… put into a category. If I stayed silent and watched all the time, I would be a mystery, and interesting. Demonstrating a zeal for scholastic pursuits, especially for theories of the mechanics behind magic, will label me as an academic, and thus harmless and uninteresting."

Professor McGonagall looked almost impressed. "That's not a bad theory, actually. Very well, let's return to the classroom."

They went back in and Aurora resumed her seat. She was immediately set upon by Hermione, who had successfully completed the day's assignment.

"You've read the _Treatise on Transfigurative Models_, but it doesn't mention an alternate or slower spell anywhere. What book did you find that in?"

"I didn't find it in a book, I just consciously slowed down the process of Transfiguring the—"

"You _consciously slowed down_ a Transfiguration?" Hermione interrupted, incredulously.

"Yes. It took some effort, and more power than normal, but I was able to see precisely how the metamorphosis occurs, so it was well worth the exertion. I think, actually, that the slower method might be a better option for wizards who have trouble with the sharp visualization required to make Transfigure instantaneously. Waffling theorizes that it takes concentration and expertise to Transfigure well, but I think it's more concentration and imagination. If you can't clearly picture what you want something to become, how can you expect a spell to fill in the gaps for you? If it were not for the fact that it would likely cause horrible accidents due to poor aim, I would suggest that students close their eyes to visualize what they wish something to become."

From then until the end of class, Hermione and Aurora talked about techniques for various types of spells. When McGonagall dismissed them, they carried the discussion into the hall on the way to dinner until Ron, being incredibly bored by the technical terms and dry comparisons, interrupted.

"It sounds like you've finally got competition for the top student spot in Hogwarts, Hermione."

Hermione's expression briefly warred between pleasure, annoyance, and distaste, but it settled on a happy look.

"The challenge will do me some good. I've been slacking with no one to compare myself to who bothers putting much effort in."

"One hundred percent or over on all of her finals last year and she calls that slacking," a disbelieving Ron commented as the entered the Great Hall and sat down to dinner.


	13. Defense Against the Dark Arts

Harry woke up on the third day of school with a feeling of nervous excitement. Today was going to be the first day Harry and his year mates had class with the new Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts. He wondered what sort of teacher Sol DeSoto would be. Harry was beginning to like Aurora; she was like a second Hermione, only she didn't prod him and Ron to do their homework during free periods. That didn't necessarily mean that he would get along with her grandfather, however.

He'd talked about it the previous evening with Ron.

"He can't be all _that_ bad," Ron said, pulling on his pajama shirt, "look at Aurora. She seems all right, and she's against Voldemort. If she'd been raised by someone like, say, Lucius Malfoy, she'd probably be as much of a pimple as Draco is."

"It doesn't always work that way, though," Harry said. "Sirius was an absolute brick, and look at his mother. Even as a painting, she was unbearable. Then you've got Wormtail. From all accounts, his parents were quiet, respectable people who were scandalized by the thought of wizards just killing each other because of ancestry."

"Huh," Ron said, "I reckon you've got a point, Harry. There are times when awful parents raise good people, and it works the other way around too. Still, what're the odds Aurora was raised by a total wacko with sympathetic ties to You-Know-Who?"

"He doesn't have to be as cracked as Umbridge to be a poor teacher, though. He could just be like Lockhart; all charm and next to no practical skills. I wish somebody would give us a clear answer about it."

In an effort to divine what sort of teacher they were getting this year, Harry, Ron and Hermione had been asking those who had already had Defense Against the Dark Arts with him. From Ginny, they got "intense"; from Ernie Macmillan, who'd come up ostensibly to congratulate Ron and Hermione on their Head positions the first night of school (Though Hermione said he already had on the train ride over, then at the Sorting Feast. Ron's theory was that Ernie was insanely jealous and liked to be close to the badges on the off chance he or Hermione croaked), they heard that he seemed "Really first-rate"; Luna Lovegood insisted that he was "incredible, but you've got to be careful so he doesn't peer into your mind". None of them, however, would say anything about what Professor DeSoto had actually done or said in class.

"We'll know tomorrow, one way or another." Ron said, philosophically.

"I suppose so." With that, they went to sleep.

Harry woke Ron up. They got dressed and went down to the common room to find Aurora awake, ready, and waiting for them once again. The three of them went down to the Great Hall, with Aurora putting off questions about her grandfather's teaching style.

"You will know shortly. Have patience," was all she would say on the subject.

At breakfast, Hermione kept out of the querying, for which Aurora was grateful. It seemed to her rather rude for Ron and Harry to keep asking questions after she had, she thought, made it clear she wasn't going to answer any. Finally, after the twenty-fourth deflected question since they'd sat down to breakfast, Hermione snapped:

"For pity's sake, let the girl have a few moments to eat in peace! You'll know for yourselves what sort of teacher he is by the end of the day, anyway, so there's hardly a lot of point in driving Aurora mad asking about it."

Harry and Ron shut up, and Aurora threw Hermione a grateful smile.

When they stood up, Harry felt a hand on his shoulder. He spun around, only to come face to face with the very person he and Ron had spent so much time speculating about.

"Ah, Harry Potter. I would like to thank you for escorting my granddaughter around the castle," said Professor de Soto with a charming smile. "I know it is an added responsibility that you did not ask for. On that subject, I have a favor to ask. My granddaughter, she is as well-tutored in the subject of Defense Against the Dark Arts as I can manage. She shall either pass the exams at the year's end, or she will not; I can do no more. It would be a waste of time for her to attend the class. Would you be kind enough to escort her to the library, where she may take up independent studies and practice her English?"

Harry nodded nervously and glanced at Aurora. She was staring fixedly at her grandfather, wearing a puzzled expression, which gradually transformed to understanding and almost amusement. Little did Harry know what was going on inside her head at the moment.

::Sunfire? What are you up to?:: Aurora Mindspoke, her confusion at this odd request coloring her thoughts.

::It really doesn't make sense for you to attend the class. You already know far more about defending yourself than the students here, and it might occasion comment if you can fight as well as most of their warriors. It's better if they think you're barely competent; it makes you seem more… innocuous, and fits better with your façade of a sheltered, idealistic academic. This will also be the time you report anything suspicious but not of immediate consequence to Professor McGonagall. Obviously, anything urgent is not to be put off but reported immediately either to her or to Albus Dumbledore. I trust your judgment about the relative importance of anything you see or hear.:: Sol/Sunfire explained.

::Ah, that makes sense. I would hardly have had much use for combat practice if I spent most of my time concentrating on my studies. I'll probably be lucky if they don't wonder at my having any sort of athleticism at all. I'll have to be good at this "Quidditch" business, though, if I'm to guard Harry, since they're hardly likely to accept me on the team if I can't stay in the air.::

::Maybe if your acting skills are good enough, you can convince them you're only interested in physical activities to maintain your figure.::

::Or perhaps because I think a flabby body begets a flabby mind, which is closer to the truth. I suppose while I'm there I ought to do the homework we're already assigned so I don't have to worry about it when I'm supposed to be guarding Harry.::

::That is a sound notion. They seem to like cramming as much work into a day as possible here.::

Aurora looked over at Harry and grinned. "My thanks for escorting me. It is, as Grandfather said, a waste of time for me to try and become better at Defense. Transfiguration is my strong subject, and no amount of study will change that."

"Er, yea," Harry muttered, heading out towards the Library with Aurora following.

"So, er, how are you at Defense Against the Dark Arts?" he said a minute later, trying to make conversation.

"I am a bit of a disappointment to Grandfather, to be honest. He was so hoping one of his grandchildren would become an Auror. I might be able to pass the tests at the end of this year, but I probably will not make high marks. I passed the test at the end of my fourth year, but not by much." Aurora said modestly, hoping it sounded plausible.

"Oh, do they have O.W.L.s at the end of fourth year instead of fifth at your school?" Harry asked.

"Yes, though of course they aren't called O.W.L.s," Aurora said, mentally cursing at herself for getting the year wrong, "they are simply the end-of-school exams. You have to pass at least four of your exams every year to move up a year in school, and if you fail a test in any one subject two years running you must either drop it or be held back a year. The tests at the end of fourth year determine which courses you can take for the last three years."

"That sounds pretty tough," Harry commented.

"It is to prevent wasting the time of the instructors on exceedingly stupid or lazy students. What is the use, after all, on giving time and resources to students like the misters Crabbe and Goyle, who, to all appearances, have only enough brainpower between them to jump when they are told? I do not see any."

"That's a good point, actually." Harry said, thoughtfully, "Why keep a bunch of goons hanging around in school if you don't need to? School would be a lot better, and a lot safer, with the likes of Crabbe and Goyle gone."

They reached the library shortly afterwards, and Harry left Aurora at the door, waving as he jogged off towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Aurora went in and headed towards the section of the shelves devoted to Defense Against the Dark Arts and Dueling. After all, just because she could fight well in the style of her people was no reason to be complacent. It was always good to know what one might come up against in a fight.

Harry jogged and sprinted all the way to class, arriving with a little time before the lesson was to begin. He took the seat Ron had saved him and caught his breath. Even though there were still a few minutes to spare before class, Harry was the last person to arrive. Despite the lack of real information about this year's Defense teacher (or perhaps because of it) everyone was eager to see how the first lesson would turn out.

Seeing that all the seats were filled, Professor DeSoto smiled and waved his wand at the door. It shut with a nearly inaudible click as he took his place in front of the room. He looked around the room slowly, making eye contact with every student before he began.

"As you are already aware, I am to be your instructor in Defense Against the Dark Arts for this school year. My style of instruction is likely to be at odds with most of what you are accustomed to, since in this class there shall be no term papers."

A great many of the students looked relieved to hear this, even excited, although Hermione looked very skeptical.

"Being able to parrot information back to me from a textbook _will not_ save your life if you are to engage in a duel, and my main concern here is _to keep you alive_." Pausing in his speech, the Professor once again swept the class with a sober gaze, impressing on them the seriousness of his words. "In a time when the wizarding world is at war within itself, Defense Against the Dark Arts takes on a much more grim meaning. You are not here to learn to evade redcaps or the bean sidhe now. The foe you face is ten times as dangerous and a thousand times more treacherous, because it is not as obvious. You are facing fellow human beings. And while I will focus most of our energies on spells and techniques designed to _incapacitate_ or _evade_ a foe, there may be times when, in order to save yourself or others, you may be forced to take a life."

Nobody looked eager now, as the whole class was practically holding its breath. With the exception of Dumbledore, none of the professors at Hogwarts had gone out of their way to state that their students could very likely face the choice of killing or being killed. Very few would even speak of the mounting death toll the Daily Prophet was tallying. The only times most of the professors would speak of the deaths directly to a student were when they had to pull them out of class to break the news that a relative had died.

"Now, today's time will be taken up in one-on-one interviews where I hope to determine how to suit your instruction to your personal temperaments. I will be calling you into my office individually, going alphabetically down the roll. The rest of you may feel free to amuse yourselves as you like, as long as you do not discuss your interviews with each other until everyone has had one. The first I would like to speak to is…" he consulted a list on his desk, "Miss Lavender Brown."

He smiled benevolently as Lavender nervously shuffled to the front of the room, holding to door open for her. Once they were gone, the rest of the students relaxed a trifle. A few students, including Hermione, took out homework from other classes and started in on it.

Ten minutes later, the office door opened and the Professor and Lavender emerged. Going down the roll, Professor DeSoto called each student in for personal interviews. The students emerged with varying expressions on their faces, ranging from determination to thoughtfulness to nervousness. When Harry was called, he walked in and sat warily in the seat Professor DeSoto indicated. The older man took the armchair behind the desk. Leaning forward over the polished oak top, he rested his elbows on it and steepled his fingers. His icy blue eyes met Harry's in a serious look.

"Now, Mister Potter… If I might call you Harry?" Harry nodded permission and Professor DeSoto continued. "Very well, Harry… I do not think we need dance around the obvious. Your needs and training in the areas of Defense Against the Dark Arts are greater than usual, because Lord Voldemort desires your death above almost all others."

Harry blinked and stammered "Y-yes, Professor…" He was shocked, not by the name itself as most wizards would be, but that this man would be willing to say it. Dumbledore was the only wizard Harry had ever met who could say it evenly, or even hear it without shuddering. His respect for the man rose a little.

"To be entirely honest with you, Harry," DeSoto went on, "from what Albus Dumbledore has told me, you are both much better trained than most of your peers and still incredibly lucky to have survived so far. Unless you have any particular problems with this plan, I would like to set you to working on three things: battle preparation, which includes speed and agility training, spell memorization, and learning to cast spells without an incantation; emergency healing techniques, both for use on yourself and others; and finally, I believe it is imperative to tutor you in what my people refer to as Mind-gifts, one of which is, I understand, already being taught to you by Professor Snape and is referred to as 'Occlumency'."

Harry was perfectly still for a moment, before asking in an even tone: "Would that mean I wouldn't take lessons with Snape anymore, then?"

::You may continue them if you so choose, Harry, but I honestly feel you have not made nearly the progress you should have with him, and Dumbledore agreed.::

Harry relaxed for half a second at the prospect of not having to continue the horrid, worse than useless lessons with Snape, before jumping out of his chair and backing away from Professor DeSoto, wand raised protectively in front of him.

"All right, your lips didn't move. What the bloody hell? Are you some sort of amateur ventriloquist or did you just do what you're implying you just did?"

"Settle down, Harry. Yes, I did speak to you in thought. I had a feeling that you did, in fact, have Mind-_gifts_, based upon your headmaster's descriptions. Occlumency and Legilimency are broad terms that could cover several gifts… I have a theory that you were born with the capacity to develop, not only Mage-gift, which flows through all wizards to some degree, but also Mindspeaking, Empathic, minor Forseeing and Farseeing gifts, and possibly a touch of Animal Mindspeaking. Your early contact with Voldemort, when his curse upon you was subverted, caused a suppression of these gifts for your own survival, but when Voldemort was… reborn, it broke down your barriers, leaving you with an open ability and no training. That brings me to one of the greatest liabilities to both you _and_ to Voldemort: you are connected. What has Dumbledore told you of this connection?"

Harry grimaced and answered: "When the curse hit me, my mum's sacrifice protected me, making it bounce back and hit Voldemort. It left me with the scar, and having been cursed by him and lived, I somehow got some of his powers, like being a Parseltongue. The scar still connects us somehow, but Dumbledore never explained exactly how."

"I have a theory, Harry, that fits what I have been told, but also makes me extremely worried." Professor DeSoto caught and held Harry's gaze, his voice level, but grim. "Once, so long ago that the story is all but forgotten by history, there were two wizards. One, named Urtho, was a great Adept-Mage of the Light, who had almost unlimited power, spent his days helping people, and creating new spells… he even created or modified several species of non-humans, including Gryphons. The other was called Maar, and he was as wicked as the first mage was good. He was also an Adept, the highest power class of mage, but he preferred the sources of his power to be blood, and pain, and death. Now, this wicked mage had made war upon his neighbors, amassing more and more power, until the good mage decided that he could not stand idly by, and gathered his own army to oppose the spread of the wicked mage's influence across the world. Their battle raged for years, the good mage slowly losing ground. Finally, the wicked mage used a traitor to poison the good mage, who, to prevent the world coming under the sway of the wicked mage, unleashed a cataclysmic weapon that utterly destroyed both their strongholds." Harry couldn't see what this had to do with him, but he paid attention anyway. "What the good mage had not anticipated, however, was that the wicked mage had taken precautions against ever experiencing true death." _Now_ Harry focused sharply on what Professor DeSoto was saying. "There is… an alternate place that this world is connected to. When you use Floo powder or a Portkey, or you Apparate, you are passing through this other place, which is almost pure energy. The wicked mage had, for years, been working on spells that allowed his spirit to hide in a pocket of this alternate place, in such a way that he was hidden unless you knew exactly what to look for. He had created and performed spells that enabled him to hide there until someone descended from him first tried to use magic. Then his spirit was able to invade their bodies, and eradicate the original owner's soul, and take it as his own." Harry recoiled, horrified. The older man nodded at his reaction. "Yes, it is reprehensible. He was finally defeated when one he possessed, instead of fighting the invading spirit, hid his spirit and mind away. He eventually helped a group of righteous mages to force the wicked spirit from his body, and to tear open its hiding place in that other plane, destroying it forever. Then the mages destroyed the stronghold the wicked mage had created in our world, obliterating all traces of him that they could find… but I now believe he must have had a secret cache at some remote place, and that Voldemort must have come into possession of some grimoire or journal of this wicked mage, detailing his ideas for continual regeneration. It is my feeling that Voldemort tried, with some degree of success, to emulate his methods. Since he has evidenced no desire to have any offspring, perhaps anticipating a rival, I believe he set up his spells so that the person who defeated him would be the one whose body he invaded, by following the lingering trail of magic from the spell that caused his death to them. It would have a certain painful irony that I think would appeal to him for the one who thought to bring about his downfall to be the vehicle of his return."

"But, sir," Harry interrupted desperately, dreading what he sensed was coming, "He can't have done that, can he? Nobody defeated him; he cast the killing curse and it recoiled to hit him…" He trailed off ass the Professor shook his head sadly.

"Don't you see, Harry, that that is exactly what causes me to think that this _is_ what he did? He obviously had not anticipated the complications caused by your mother's sacrifice, and when he tried to kill you, his killing curse rebounded. His spirit, instead of following a trail of magic to an adult wizard, was pulled through his wand, to you, and back to himself. I believe that on that fateful night, his spirit was split into three parts: one that floated free, not quite in either plane, until it possessed the unfortunate Professor Quirrell; one that was stored in his wand, and one…" He paused and gave Harry a serious and pitying look, "One that appears to have attached itself to you, connecting him to you and granting you certain limited versions of his powers."

Harry slumped back, stunned. It made a sick sort of sense, especially when looked at in light of the prophecy. If Voldemort believed his downfall would come at the hands of a child, of course he would want to prevent that. Even if he had been willing to chance the efficacy of his spells at that point, he would certainly not enjoy being trapped in the body of a little boy. The man who defeated Voldemort would be showered with honors, probably easily chosen for Minister of Magic; granted all sorts of gifts. If a boy were to defeat the most feared Dark Wizard in centuries, people would call it a fluke. But in forgetting the ancient magical protections invoked by his mother giving her life to save Harry, Voldemort erred in a nearly fatal way.

"So… so my scar is like a bit of Voldemort, then?" Harry asked, nauseated by the thought.

"A physical manifestation of it, more likely."

There was a long silence, during which Professor DeSoto waited patiently as Harry tried to work out all logical conclusions to this theory. Finally Harry spoke up again.

"So… now Voldemort must want me dead even more than before, because there's a piece of his soul-" Harry's face twisted in a look of revulsion and he felt ill "A piece of his soul in my body, lending me his powers. He'll kill me just to get it back."

Professor DeSoto nodded, then added: "What is, perhaps, worse is that at this point, he simply wants to push a final confrontation with you. You have grown into a young man with quick reflexes, bravery, and a reasonable amount of power. If you were to perform the killing curse on him at this exact moment, I think he would be fairly pleased to take over your body. People would call you- or rather, him- the Chosen One, a hero, a savior. Being the man who defeated the direst dark wizard in centuries would open many doors of opportunity. Hiding his true nature until he was well established would not be difficult, at which time he could transform your body into his preferred appearance once more, and reveal himself to his associates again. And if he were to defeat you in a duel of mages, it would be no great loss to him. What we need to do is put him at a disadvantage, which I hope training will do."

Harry nodded decisively. "I'll do it. I want to get rid of Voldemort once and for all, more than anything."

"Very good." Professor DeSoto said, a grim smile on his face. "Keep that attitude, because this will not be an easy task. You _will_ get tired, you will _probably _be injured at some point, and there may be times when it seems like you will never be ready to battle Voldemort on an even footing. However, I believe you have the capacity in you to be a formidable opponent, or I would not be wasting my time on you. We'll start your private lessons this Sunday."

Harry was surprised to hear Professor DeSoto speak that way. Most adults either treated him as some sort of super hero or a small child. Nobody had honestly said that they thought he was up to the challenge of taking down Voldemort with a lot of arduous training; they either assumed he was doomed or that somehow, Luck and Fate were on his side and would let him defeat his opponent. A few members of the Order were fiercely insistent that he _must _win, but few had a specific plan for making that possible. It was a refreshing change for Harry.

Professor DeSoto stood, and Harry did likewise. The Professor extended his hand, and Harry shook it. The door swung open and Harry went back to sit with Hermione and Ron, who was looking quite nervous.

By the time all the individual interviews were finished, it was time for lunch, so Professor DeSoto dismissed them with the warning "Wear comfortable shoes and clothing that does not hinder movement to the next lesson, if you please."

When they left the room, Harry, Ron and Hermione found Aurora waiting for them, saying a friendly Hufflepuff who was heading to this area of the castle had led her there. Together they went to lunch, where they discussed their respective interviews while Aurora listened.


End file.
